


Footprints in the Sand

by AshaCrone



Series: Kindness to strangers [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Gender/Sexuality, M/M, Memory Loss, Mpreg, Shiro Big Bang 2017, Shiro's godawful year, That's what you get when you fold space time. You get origami., Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-27 21:17:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 30,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12590708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshaCrone/pseuds/AshaCrone
Summary: Shiro isn't sure why Ulaz is helping him.The Galra has every reason to be cruel, like the others.Except that, little by little, he finds himself growing attached.And the Galra seems to know him far better than he has any right to.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [BLAM BLAM](http://voltronbigbang.tumblr.com/)  
> Here is [arka](https://xblackpaladin.tumblr.com/post/167008008240/footprints-in-the-sand-read-the-fic-here-his)  
> [Eli B.](http://spacebitch-pidge.tumblr.com/image/167024967101)  
> And [horriblepuncat](https://horriblecatpun.tumblr.com/post/167028235564/this-is-it-guys-its-time-i-can-show-you-guys-one)
> 
> Thank you for making my first big bang experience a good one!

Footprints in the Sand, chapter 1

 

His hands were bloody.

Shirogane Takashi swallowed hard, feeling his limbs tremble in the aftermath of the adrenaline crash, exhaustion making his vision fog. All he could smell was the sewer stink of the arena; the air was muggy and close.

In front of him was so much bloody, dead meat. The crowds had been chanting something, and he remembered the hurried, frantic whispers of the other prisoners being herded to the arena. The meat had a name. The meat had been a person.

Myzax had looked at him in shock when Shiro had broken through his defense, having timed his attack and discovered his weakness. 

_the whispers had been horrified, terrified, resigned, doomed_ -

Shiro had kept a piece of his mind clear, calculating, unwilling to give up and die so he _planned_ , taking the time to observe and learn. He took a lot of damage to do that; how he stayed alive was a minor miracle. And when he saw his opening he took it, charging forward. The weapon he had been given wasn’t anything like the bamboo practice sword he had used in high school kendo club. The weight was wrong. But he remembered striking for Myzax’s unarmored throat-

The blood wasn’t red.

In the dim light, it could have been black. He wasn’t sure.

But the smell of death-

He was aware of being brought off the killing ground. His right arm was numb, its weight hanging off his shoulder. There were hot and cold and wet-feeling places all over his body, and his ankle wasn’t bending. The roar of the arena subsided to something that mixed with the throb of his pulse. He was aware of staggering, even if his body wasn’t quite real and he was floating off somewhere outside it.

He was surprised when the deck rose up to slam his face. He knew the guards were yowling, howling something that no longer made sense as he tried to decide what was happening, was it worth it to get up-

They grabbed his busted arm to drag him. He may have screamed; that was the last thing he remembered before waking up in darkness.

It was quiet. The air was no longer clung to his skin, thick with the humidity from hundreds of living beings respiring. It was cool, actually- He blinked blurry eyes. He could see nothing, hear almost less, and smelled nothing beyond his own sweat-pain-stink.

His body ached like he had just come out of a kendo match- in other words, someone had whacked him with sticks. His right arm was numb, heavy and unmoving against his side. He was lying on his back, otherwise, and… for a moment, for one breathless, beautiful moment, he could almost believe it had all been some horrible, horrible dream-

Until he noticed the restraints. 

He cycled through a range of emotions: panic first, then horrified, choking memory, and the realization that he must have _killed_ someone. There was blood on his hands, he remembered striking home-

Nausea twisted his belly, almost enough to make him wretch. The realization that he would probably choke on it, along with nothing in his belly to vomit, kept him from being sick all over himself.

After a short, panicked eternity, the wall of nothing in front of him split. The light blinded him like a hammer to the face, obscuring the Galran figure that strode in.

Shiro struggled as he blinked away spots; his injured arm was dead weight while the other scraped and bled from his restraints.

“Be calm,” a deep, raspy voice told him. “You are Shirogane Takashi, are you not?” 

Shiro inhaled, feeling his nostrils flare as his eyes went wide; no Galra had ever spoken his name, and the last person to actually call for him had been Matt. The sound was an unwelcome liberty, an caress from a stranger. Kind and cruel by the act of it.

He went still, ducking his eyes and looking away.

The next moment a cup of water was thrust under his nose. It took a few moments for Shiro to even register its presence.

“We could attach a device to keep you hydrated,” the raspy voice went on, and Shiro noted that the cup was held by a large, striped hand with fingers the size of sausages tipped in talons. “But you might appreciate the chance to drink more.”

Hunger and thirst were always a vague, hazy need that had hovered over him, pushed aside by more immediate horrors. Now they rose up, and he opened his mouth for a sip. Soon he was gulping as the coolness eased the fire in his throat. He drank and drank and drank until it was spilling over his chin and on to his chest. 

The Galra held the cup the entire time.

“Do you know who I am?” he asked when the cup was empty, taking it away. 

“Should I?” Shiro muttered. His head suddenly felt fuzzy, and he noticed the bitter aftertaste on his tongue and lips.

“My name is Ulaz,” the Galra answered, and he dodged just before Shiro managed to spit at him, giving Shiro a split second view of white and lavender fur and a pale crest, before darkness claimed him again.

~*~*~*~*~

He hadn’t expected to see the pale Galra again.

Shiro hadn’t expected to survive for as long as he had, if he were honest.

But the gods had cursed him, it seemed. He wasn’t willing to just _die_ , even if there was a part of him that told him that there was no hope of rescue. The odds of seeing Matt and Sam again were almost nil. He had been forced to kill, and to keep killing, even if he had refused the crowd’s bloodlust and killed his opponents as quickly and cleanly as he could. 

At the same time, he still wasn’t alone, even if his cell mates spoke rarely. They all hung under the same pall of despair. And he wasn’t always forced to kill; if he was fast he could disable instead. He could listen to stories, told sparingly, haltingly, from the other prisoners.

He had tried to give mercy when he could.

This was what had lead him to meet the pale Galra again, ironically. He had tried to speak with his opponent, who had resembled a child. He had been slashed in the face for his troubles.

The blow _should_ have killed him. 

Instead he came to find himself in some kind of infirmary.

“I see you are awake.”

The pale Galra looked down at him. He was holding a device in one hand, and was waving it over Shiro’s face, which felt stiff and distant, even as the back of his head throbbed. 

“I am the physician in charge of caring for favored gladiators,” the Galra went on, voice flat and detached. “Given that you are considered _highly_ favored right now, despite your brief lapse, I have been told to keep you alive.”

He paused, from the angle of his face, he thought that the Galra was glancing up at him. “You are safe here,” he said, and paused. Obviously expecting an answer.

Shiro opened his mouth. All that came out was a dry cough, and the white Galra frowned, bringing up a pouch with something that looked like a straw at the top.

“Drink.”

Shiro pressed his lips shut.

“It contains painkillers,” the Galra continued. “As well as stimulants to help promote healing. I had to reconstruct some of your nasal passages, but there was likely damage that I cannot account for.” Shiro felt the throbbing travel through his face, this time hard enough to make his eyes water. “I do not wish to see you in pain, Shiro.”

“Don’t call me that,” he protested, barely able to speak. “You don-” he coughed again, and the Galra’s face went still. 

“Of course,” he said, shoulders dropping along with his volume. The rasp in his voice became more pronounced. “You don’t know me.” It wasn’t a question. “Shirogane, please drink. The previous dose of pain medicine will be wearing off soon, and your healing will be impaired because of the stress it will cause.”

Shiro was, frankly, surprised to be offered pain killers at all… and the part of him was pragmatic, that wished to survive, made him open his mouth. The tube was put between his lips, and he took a cautious sip.

It tasted different from before. Not as bitter, but still odd and laced with unknowns… but the throbbing receded, the cords of muscle in his neck and shoulder relaxed, and he blinked in surprise when he saw the same relaxation seemed to hit the Galra as well.

“Good,” the Galra murmured. “Thank you, Shirogane.” He leaned forward, his free hand moving towards Shiro’s head- and Shiro flinched. The Galra pulled his hand back. “My apologies.”

Shiro closed his eyes, and let the Galra continue mending his face.

~*~*~*~*~

It was hard to judge time on board a ship. There were cycles, but they seemed to be at different intervals than made sense to him. He knew that he had to have been there for weeks, maybe months, but he couldn’t track it. The moments were interminable, like waiting for his next fight, or the brutal, soul-destroying instant after he had been forced to kill, but those cycles were a mushy mess in his mind.

He did start to notice other things. 

There was a hierarchy on board the enormous ship-space station- whatever- Shiro wasn’t even sure anymore what he was on- that he was beginning to understand. 

On the top were the Commanders. He heard whispers of them, and even glimpsed one once: a massive Galra with deep blue fur and broad, prominent ears. They passed through and were frequent patrons of the higher level gladiatorial matches. 

There were command staff under them and all of them were Galra. There didn’t seem to be many more of them than there were Commanders, and even fewer Galra had lower ranks. Most of the grunt work was done by machine. Even the physician- Ulaz- only seemed to have drones aiding him when it came to caring for the gladiators. None of the other prisoners commented on this, and he didn’t bring it up.

There was the arena audience, after that. They seemed to be drawn from… so many species. Some were as similar as he was to the Galra: their bodies followed bilateral symmetry, with a head, and four limbs radiating off a central trunk and used bipedal locomotion. But there were some with massive eyestalks, tails, six or more limbs used for mobility. Some were quadrupedal, others had no feet and undulated like snakes… some seemed to float.

If this wasn’t his personal hell, he would have been fascinated. Sam would be in the background, rambling on and on about his observations, taking notes. Matt would be teasing his dad about his enthusiasm while he wigging out about whatever technology was allowing them all to understand each other. 

God, he missed them. (and his family. His innocence. His world). He just hoped that, wherever they were, they were okay. 

The audience was… horrifying. Even if half of them seemed to be Galra, the other half just didn’t seem to care. They watched the blood sports in front of them like he had watched rugby or soccer back home. Favorite gladiators were treated like celebrity athletes. The more they performed and made the crowd happy, the more luxury they were afforded. If you considered being allowed to survive after the occasional loss, or getting medical treatment when most fodder were killed immediately, a luxury. 

Most of the onboard slaves were gladiators, and they were divided into favorites, those with patrons, or fodder. Favorites were those with win streaks, who played up their kills, who gave a great show, or survived for long. Patronage… made Shiro uneasy. His first glimpse of a Commander, Sendak, had been when he had left a neighboring cell. That particular fighter had been capable, and zir fight with Shiro had been harsh. Ze had used a weapon that Shiro had never seen before, one that had nearly taken Shiro down before he had realized its effective range. 

The battle had been called when Shiro had disarmed zir. Shiro had been absolutely fine with that; he didn’t want to add to his body count. 

Once upon a time, the idea of letting a Galra touch him would have been repugnant. Now, he couldn’t blame anyone for trying to find a way to hang on, or find some comfort, for another day.

Because those days were just…

Shiro looked down, blinking, coming back to himself as he found he was once again within the infirmary, the pale Galra hunched over him. 

That last fight hadn’t been close, not really, but his right arm had been slashed. 

“You have sustained a great deal of damage over time to this arm,” Ulaz said. It was hard for Shiro to track Ulaz’s gaze; his best guess was that Galra had a partially fused, translucent nictitating membrane that covered their corneas. So he wasn’t always sure where Ulaz was staring at that moment. Either his face or his body. “This cut was deep enough to damage the humerus, and I have knit up the ulna and radius numerous times already.” He took a deep breath. “Have you experienced tingling in your fingers?”

Shiro blinked at Ulaz for a few moment. “Why?”

“You may have nerve damage that I haven’t been able to repair,” Ulaz said. “If that is the case, then I should check the conductivity of your nerves.” He was leaning forward, shoulders drooped, face calm. 

Shiro licked his lips, before nodding. He hadn’t been able to keep a firm grip in his right hand for some time. 

Now Ulaz frowned. “Very well. This will be painful, and given the nature of the test, one that I cannot give you medication for.” He leaned back then, tapping his talons on the bed. “Speak. Tell a tale of your life, or a childhood fable. The distraction will allow me to work unhindered, and keep you from being as aware of the pain.”

“Why do you care?”

Ulaz tilted his head, ears twitching upwards. “For many reasons. The ones that concern you right now is that I am your physician and I want you to live. And I don’t want to see you in pain.”

Shiro’s lips thinned. “If you didn’t want me to be in pain, you would help me get out of here.”

“I am a loyal servant of the Empire, Shirogane Takashi. Helping you beyond providing for your care here would be risking my position, not to mention my life,” he said slowly. “Those are not things I can risk. Not for a single gladiator from a backwater planet.”

Shiro turned his head to the side. “So much for helping.”

Ulaz grunted. “It must seem cruel that I offer platitudes of goodwill when I refuse to do more. Your contempt is earned. But know that the Empire does not suffer traitors, and there are many factors in play of which you know not.”

“Like what?” Shiro muttered.

Ulaz brows and ears twitched as he leaned in, and picked up Shiro’s arm before he could protest, turning his right hand over to massage the palm. “The Empire is ancient and ever-expanding- can you make a fist?”

Shiro did so, focusing on Ulaz words. This was the most information he had gotten from anyone, vague as it was. Unfortunately he couldn’t curl his fingers as well as he would like, and Ulaz noticed. “As I said, the Empire is ever expanding, and our Emperor is searching for something he lost in his youth. At this time, the expansion is self-perpetuating, due to-“

A streak of white hot pain raced along his nerves, making Shiro shriek, even if he couldn’t fully flex his hand. He hadn’t caught Ulaz bringing the device up to his arm until that moment.  
“Our ever-expanding need for resources, namely quintessence,” Ulaz went on, and the pain ceased as soon as it began.

“You son of a bitch,” Shiro mumbled, going limp on the examination bench. 

“You do have nerve damage,” Ulaz said, after looking at the device he had used. “Nerve regeneration will be even more painful, and it is again, something I cannot numb.” He gazed down at Shiro, who tightened his jaw. “And it will take longer.”

Shiro exhaled.

“Then allow me to tell you a story,” Ulaz said after Shiro refused to answer. “It is a folktale of my people, though it is thought to have some basis in fact. Breathe deeply and listen to my voice.” He found a piece of something like plastic, and put it to Shiro’s teeth. “Bite down.” Shiro eyed him warily before doing as he was asked. 

A fire went up his arm, and Shiro hissed.

“Listen to me. From days of long ago, from uncharted regions of the universe, comes a legend…”

The pain dragged on, and Shiro found himself listening, _listening_ , fighting to pay attention to Ulaz words. It went on for long minutes, sustained, making all of the muscles in Shiro’s legs and back and neck spasm.

“The great robot was the finest warrior the universe had ever known, but she was also prideful. In that pride, she sought out the goddess of Space, of creation itself, to challenge. For her hubris, the Goddess chose to break Voltron into five lions, and henceforth would always be beholden to mortals to access her great power. Even then, it would take a team of mortals working as one to bring this power forth, and so Voltron was tamed-“

Shiro clung to those words, listening- and realized that Ulaz had taken his left hand and was holding it, letting Shiro try to squeeze his fingers until he heard them creak. By the time the treatment was done, Shiro was an exhausted, sweaty, limp rag.

“Your arm should be repaired now,” Ulaz murmured, as Shiro panted. “I am sorry.” Shiro didn’t know how to act as Ulaz picked him up like he weighed little more than a child and placed on a floating gurney. “I have other patients to tend to. Do you want a sedative?”

Shiro shook his head.

“Very well. The guards will take you back to your cell. I hope not to see you for some time, Shirogane, though I think it is inevitable regardless.”

That was the last thing he heard before passing out exhaustion.


	2. Chapter 2

Footprints in the Sand, Chapter 2

Of course, he did need medical treatment again.

And this time Ulaz was quiet. Of course, he was busy repairing Shiro’s internal organs, so that may have contributed to his silence, but he hadn’t made Shiro unconscious for it.

He had, however, numbed him from the neck down, as well as given him a general anesthetic… which Shiro may not have been reacting well to.

“You are very strange,” Shiro said conversationally, even as Ulaz continued working.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You’re nice but you’re not nice, because… because you can’t be nice,” Shiro proclaimed. It seemed pretty obvious.

“I am not ‘nice,’” Ulaz said, though there was some laughter in his voice. “I am a trained Galra physician, and you are my patient. But, I have no reason to treat you harshly.”

“But you,” and he looked down, just in time to see Ulaz putting back his freshly regenerated intestines, and the weird feeling of dysphoria increased. “You use my name.”

“Would you prefer I didn’t?”

“How do you know my name?” he asked, because it had started to bother him.

“It was in your ship’s records,” Ulaz answered, and the skin regenerator was in his hands.

“None of the other Galra use it.” He felt his eyes burn, because this hurt. This was _important_. “They just called me 117-9875. Now… now they call me _Champion_. But you don’t.”

Ulaz made eye contact with him. “Does that bother you? That I use your name?”

“I don’t know.” Because he didn’t. Because it was a familiarity that felt too close, too intimate, for someone who was a member of an alien species of conquerors. Yet he drank up every time Ulaz said his name like it was water. “Keith and Matt called me Shiro. My brother called me Aniki.” The tears leaked over his face, down his temples and onto the bench as Ulaz finished mending his insides. “You don’t know me.”

Ulaz was quiet again. “And you don’t know me.” He stood, removing his mask and gloves, stained red with Shiro’s blood. “Though that will change.” He sighed, and Shiro blinked as he swayed, sounding worn and tired. He regained his footing and his composure, before turning back to Shiro. “Let’s get you into recovery, Shiro. I’ll give you another dose of painkillers so you can sleep this off.”

Shiro felt a hiss as a syringe was pressed to his arm. “Rest. Don’t lose hope.” Shiro blinked as a cloth was pressed to his face, blotting away the tears. “You will survive.”

The last thing he remembered as darkness took him were talons combing his hair.

~*~*~*~*~

The smell was something he had come to notice weeks ago.

He knew he wasn’t the only one who did; there were jeers from the Galra guards, commenting that it was a good thing that the droid sentries were the ones in charge of taking him back and forth to his cell.

Shiro’s shoulders ached; Ulaz was going to give him that _look_ again, because his right arm had again been caught in a blow. But it felt more like bruising than any kind of break. His opponent hadn’t had the dread of Myzax, but he had a reputation for cruelty that had made Shiro happy to put him down.

The scent wasn’t unpleasant, either. It was just…

“Why do they keep looking at me like that?” Shiro asked, while Ulaz ran a scanner along his arm.

“Hmm?”

“The Galra guards, they kept saying- and I’ve had some of those bigger Galra, they’re walking by my door at night and that smell.” He took a deep breath, and while it wasn’t as powerful as before, he thought he could still make it out.

Ulaz _chuckled_. “Ah, I see you have noticed that you have… quite a fan following.”

Shiro tried not to roll his eyes. “What does that mean?”

“Galra find prowess in battle to be quite… hm… shall we say… _alluring_?” The pale Galra’s lips were twisted up in one corner, but not showing his teeth, even as his ears and brows pushed forward in amusement. “You showed grace and skill today. Battle is one way that a young Galra shows his worth to sire whelps.”

Shiro blinked. Look down at his arm. “So you’re basically saying that the gladiator matches are-“ and he gaped, lost for words for a few moments. “They’re Galra _porn_?”

Now Ulaz had to look away to keep from laughing. “That is not their intent, but it is often the result.”

“There are Galra who are,” and Shiro found himself gaping again, his mind almost fried at this revelation. “They’re _masturbating_ watching me _kill people_?”

“Not to the deaths themselves, no. But watching two fit warriors compete is, hm, _satisfying_.” He chuckled again, and Shiro felt his hair stand on end.

“But most of the time we’re not even Galra,” Shiro protested, almost pulling his arm back. “Why would you even-“

And here Ulaz dropped his arm like it was on fire. “Ah, of course. It is an open secret, though few like to speak of it. Most of us consider it a taboo.”

“What is?” Shiro knew he was pushing boundaries- Ulaz was still Galra, still one of the enemy- but he was also… Shiro realized Ulaz had somehow slipped into his category of ‘friend.’ Even if he had no real reason for it. He trusted Ulaz.

“Galra are unique. We are capable of siring or bearing offspring with other species,” Ulaz said, sounding detached. “Though these offspring are not Galra in appearance.” Ulaz snorted softly. “Willingly breeding with another species is a taboo, however. Forcing yourself on someone weaker is allowed, even lauded within the military, whether it is one of our own kind or not.” He turned seemed to draw himself inward. 

That was… one hell of an exposition dump. “That’s biologically impossible.”

“For other species, perhaps. But the use of germ cells is not the only component when it comes to Galra,” Ulaz offered. “There is also a sharing of quintessence, which seems to be the root of it.”

“And… that is…?”

“The force of life itself. It is the most concentrated source of energy available, and the Druids-“ and Shiro _shivered_ , because he could still remember the cold funeral pall of their touch,” are capable of using it to perform acts that defy science.”

If Shiro hadn’t known better he would have thought Ulaz sounded disapproving. Given that he seemed to be fully rooted in the sciences, that seemed to make sense.

“Why is it taboo?”

Ulaz pulled away from him, tilting his head this way and that, ears twitching back and forth as his jaw and neck tightened.

Not in hostility; in the brief time he had known Ulaz, he had not been hostile towards anyone. But he did seem to be carefully considering his words. “That is difficult to explain. Our society is very much hierarchical. You must bow to the authority of those higher than you. This leads to… abuses.”

Shiro grimaced. He had been witness to those.

“Fighting is possible; indeed, challenging and killing your superior is one way of rising in the ranks. But not everyone can.” Ulaz still looked to be searching for words. “So it is acceptable to force aliens to carry your whelps, even if they are not Galra, because it puts off the risk for yourself. But it is a pollution, to allow yourself to be impregnated by an alien. An insult to the studs that would give you pure whelps, to the officers who have demonstrated their strength and are more than worthy.” He seemed to deflate as he shrugged. “I believe the taboo is somewhat older than that. Our species would die out otherwise.”

Shiro shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

Ulaz’s smile twisted again. “What you have scented is the many Galra who found you a worthy sire, Shiro.”

And then Shiro _choked_. “But- the hell- what- how can even- I haven’t seen any female Galra!”

There was an awkward pause. “Ah. Humans have different morphs based on reproduction?”

Shiro nearly swallowed his tongue after that.

~*~*~*~*~

The next time Shiro was dragged out of his cell, he realized that something was wrong.

His routine was pretty well established at this point: every sleep cycle, after the lights came on and he was fed his usual dry cubes of… something, (Ulaz had refused to tell him what it was) he was taken to a gymnasium of some kind and forced to exercise, to train in different types of combat under the eyes of the gladiator wranglers. His guess was that this was one of the few perks of being a successful gladiator: the chance to improve even more.

He welcomed the distraction without the blood.

He often saw other gladiators. A few there knew they were strong and attractive, and had powerful patrons. They knew they could lord it over the others. They were bullies, who needed to be taken down a few notches.

He did his best to avoid them.

He nodded to Liasha, one of the few aliens willing to give a name and have a conversation, whispered and furtive as it was. She looked ill, he noticed. (Ulaz words about Galra reproduction suddenly made the scarcity of people with female reproductive organs seem that much more dire.)

But there was a sudden silence in the gym as a pair of droid sentries entered, coming to stand on either side of him. He paused. He was armed only with his fists, and they had rifles, which they used to prod him away from his usual sparring partners and out of the gym. Instead they ushered him to the showers.

The showers were used typically after a difficult, ugly match, when he was covered in blood and other fluids; now that he knew half the purpose of the arena fights he realized they _wanted_ him to look clean and attractive. At least at the start of the fight.

Shiro grimaced as his sweaty body suit was cut from his body, leaving him nude as he walked through the showers.

He walked through, came out to the blowers, and…

There was Commander Sendak, staring at him like Shiro was the next dish on the buffet.

“Hm. Not as scrawny as I feared,” he murmured. Shiro was very, very aware that there were two droids along with Sendak, who had him trained in their sights. “You’ve developed well.”

Shiro kept his lips sealed.

“I have heard some rather disturbing news, Champion,” the Commander went on, fangs peeking out of from between his lips. “Have you truly never had the benefit of a patron?”

There was a pause, and Shiro realized that Sendak actually wanted a response. “No, Commander.”

“And you’ve survived all this time? I know you have the favor of the crowd, but has no one provided for you?” The big Galra loomed over him, stepping into Shiro’s space to cup his chin.

He didn’t dare move away, as Sendak let go and circled around him, large hands pawing his skin, squeezing his muscles, cooing as he considered his eyes and hair. “You aren’t unattractive. Pity that you are unreceptive,” he murmured. Shiro blinked at the word (the translator was giving it flavors of broodmare, sow, animalistic and degrading) and he had to hold himself still, fighting to keep from flinching.

“Consider yourself lucky then, because I am willing to step in.”

Ice grew in Shiro’s belly, making his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth. “I don’t think-“ 

The blow knocked him off his feet ; pain turned the world red and black for a moment before he came back to himself.

“You forget yourself, _Champion_ ,” Sendak said with a sneer. “You are not to think. You are property of the Empire and I am one of the Emperor’s favored-“

Shiro scrambled to get his feet and arms under him, to crouch low and protect himself. He knew exactly what was going to happen- he didn’t believe in miracles-

Except…

“Pardon me, Commander, but I do believe you are… late, when it comes to being granted Shiro’s… patronage,” a dry, raspy voice said pleasantly, coming on his left (now blind) side. Shiro struggled to open his swollen eye as Ulaz swept in from nowhere.

“Physician, what are you doing here?”

“Tending to my property, which you have seen fit to damage. That is… not a wise move.”

Shiro blinked through the tears filming his uninjured eye as he saw Ulaz, sinewy and sharp, contrasted against Sendak’s broad, heavy form. He stood there in the showers, heedless of the water soaking his clothes, between Shiro and the even larger Commander. 

“I am one of Emperor Zarkon’s favored Commanders,” Sendak spat. “There’s nothing-“

“In reality, I have held the Champion’s patronage for some time. I have invested quite a lot of work in keeping him healthy so that he might continue to fight, if you haven’t noticed. Surely I wouldn’t have done so without wishing to cultivate my own pet.”

Sendak growled. 

Shiro wasn’t sure if he was hearing this right.

“You _may_ have Emperor Zarkon’s favor,” Ulaz went on, like the notion was in doubt. “But I have the witch’s, for my efforts in constructing powerful artificial limbs. And a prior claim. Do not fear, I will compensate you for your loss.”

There was a loud snort, and Sendak seemed to deflate. “You had better. He is a fine prize-“

“And I am intimately familiar with what you do with your ‘prizes,’” Ulaz said icily. “And why you are in search of a new pet. But he is too valuable in the arena, and the Druids agree with me.”

Sendak reared back, turning to do an epic flounce out of the shower room, even as Shiro reeled from what he had just heard.

A disgusted hiss echoed through the room as Ulaz knelt in front of him. “I was too late. Forgive me, Shiro,” Ulaz whispered, reaching out.

Shiro took his hand as Ulaz helped him up. “What-“

“A… bluff, of sorts.” Ulaz had already started to inspect the wound on his face. “I have had some form of patronage over you, but not the kind that Sendak sought. Well. Not until now.” He exhaled. “Come then. You’re coming to my quarters. It seems that I am your new owner.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning on this chapter for some gore and implied sexual assault

Footprints in the Sand, Chapter 3

Shiro wasn’t sure what would change.

He was mostly numb as Ulaz called the droid sentries to follow them to his quarters, now draped in Ulaz’s heavy apron. The entire situation was taking the unbelievable and wrapping it in the bizarre- Ulaz was the _only_ person he trusted in this hell hole- and now Ulaz was his owner.

Somehow. Like being kidnapped by imperialistic, tall purple cat-lizard aliens wasn’t weird enough.

The rooms themselves were hardly lavish, even if they were the height of luxury compared to the bleakness of his cell. The lights were a dim purple, of course. There was a long bed on the far side of the room, with a desk and a tall, curved chair beside it. There was a panel that looked to be a sliding door which possibly held a closet, and another flat panel that possibly hid another room. (Bathing room? He had no idea.)

It was obviously a room just for one person. All of the furniture was sized for Galra bodies…

And nothing to indicate that Ulaz had ever kept a slave, or even an actual animal pet, before.

“You did this off the top of your head, didn’t you?” Shiro mumbled as Ulaz indicated for him to sit in the massive easy chair. Ulaz didn’t speak, instead heading to one of the empty panels that opened, revealing a small box… which, Shiro guessed, was some kind of first aid kit.

What Ulaz did do was make a small grunt, spit, hiss sound that reminded Shiro so much of a pissed off cat that he had to force himself not to laugh.

“I have been… chided… for my recklessness in the past,” Ulaz said as he came back over, falling into an easy squat, hands gentle as he smoothed a balm over Shiro’s face, numbing the pain. “Nothing is broken, it seems. Just bruised.”

Shiro let out a deep breath, and blinked, several times. “Why?” His throat tightened as he asked. “Why are you- like this? You won’t help me escape, but you are kind to me.” His eyes burned. “Why?”

Ulaz went still. “I am repaying a debt.” His talons traced over the side of Shiro’s face, before putting a Galra-sized shirt in his hands.

“I don’t understand.”

“Not yet. But you will.” Ulaz rose to his feet. “I have arrangements to make. Please don’t kill me in my sleep. It would do you little good, as the doors do not open without my authorization, coming in or out.”

Shiro stared at the oversized shirt in his hands, glanced around the room, at Ulaz, and back down to where he was. At that moment, he might have been the safest he had ever been since being kidnapped. And freedom had never been so far away.

He didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or cry.

~*~*~*~*~

A niggling part of Shiro’s mind was convinced that Ulaz was going to turn on him as soon as they were alone.

Yet the facts of the matter said otherwise. After that first drink of sedative catching him by surprise, Ulaz had described what he was doing, sometimes in gruesome detail. He hadn’t asked for permission, but pantomiming politeness would have been condescending. He had never acted in a way that suggested subterfuge.

Yet he almost expected to be asked to ‘service’ his patron. The anticipation for that moment was like an itch that he couldn’t scratch. When it didn’t happen after the first day, or the next, he tried to tell himself he was not disappointed.

Things hadn’t changed so much. He was still escorted by drones to and from the arena. He still was escorted to and from the gym (where he was ribbed for having a patron now; the other gladiators were jealous) and Ulaz would still mend him with gentle hands. 

But now, he had food whenever he wanted it; Ulaz had shown him how to use the food unit (a storage space for fresh and packaged foods, and a conductive hot plate to cook with). He could practice reading Galran script from something that reminded him of a tablet. He could bathe as he wanted, wash off the fear sweat of the arena. Ulaz kept him company when he wasn’t working, showing him a board game that reminded Shiro of checkers. When he slept, Shiro had a cot and blankets. 

Shiro hadn’t tried to kill him in his sleep, even if the thought had occurred to him.

But being in this gilded cage, free of immediate danger and pain, meant that he did, eventually, get bored. So he started snooping.

The door, indeed, refused to open. The hot plate from the food unit cut off as soon as something other than food came into contact with it. The knife drawer was locked and no amount of pounding, tinkering or trickery could get him in.

There were no knickknacks or tchotchkes, no art on the walls. Ulaz did have a small game collection, but he had no idea who Ulaz played with. 

Ulaz’s bathing room was set behind a panel. Galra did seem to sweat, though grooming for them seemed to involve using something that resembled a curry comb and a soft brush before getting wet, and a strong blow drier after. (After six months of barely bathing on the _Orpheus_ , it was still a shock to see that the ship had enough water for that.)

There was something he thought was cologne; Ulaz wore it religiously, spraying himself and his clothing with it every time he changed.

Outside in another cubby was the toilet. It, thankfully, seemed to take into account a sudden loss of the artificial gravity and could be sealed, along with a vacuum attachment.

(The gladiator cells hadn't any of those things.) 

The most prevalent scent in the room was Ulaz cologne. Strong enough to be noticeable, but not unpleasant. It was different from the odd musky scent in the toilet room.

(If he were honest… He sort of liked that smell more. It seemed weirdly welcoming and vulnerable and… That was so weird.)

The same smell was on Ulaz bed sheets, when he laid down. Ulaz had told him that it was okay. The bed itself reminded him more of a futon on tatami than a mattress. The covers were thin, but fleecy in a way that had him stroking his hands over them several times.

He hadn't realized he was hard until he rubbed his face in Ulaz’s pillow.

It was a day with no matches, just a trip to the gym. He had showered, but hadn’t dressed just yet. He wasn’t hungry.

He had nosed through everything already.

He sighed. Ulaz wasn't likely to be back for hours. In the weeks, months of his capture he hadn’t considered touching himself out of terror and lack of privacy. 

Now, he felt… secure. Safe. His mind could drift as he lay down in Ulaz’s bed, fingers tracing the blankets under his bare skin.

Ulaz hadn't touched him in any way that wasn't platonic. By all rights, if Ulaz was anything like Sendak he should have made Shiro suck his dick already. (The gladiators gossiped. About everything. Including the preferences of their particular patrons… and Sendak had visited many.)

But Ulaz hadn’t. 

Which… Shiro sighed, wallowing on the blanket. That soft smell got stronger.

He knew this sense of safety was tenuous, probably false. Probably a lie. Ulaz was Galra, and… 

Licking his lips, Shiro wondered, vaguely, how Ulaz would finally ask him for sex. Wake him up, sit in one of his chairs and… It was too easy to imagine himself kneeling between Ulaz spread legs, touching the different patterns of his fur, opening his mouth and _licking_ -

He groaned, face buried in the pillow as his dick got harder. 

Ulaz was always so calm. Would he crack, when his dick was stroked? Or would he just sit back and sigh in contentment? Would he smile, giant paw running through Shiro’s hair as he continued to lick, to try to get as much of that taste and smell on his skin-

The fantasy continued to unwind, with Shiro seeing Ulaz’s stoic expression drop, soften as his eyes closed in pleasure. Imagined the muscles of his chest and stomach flutter and twitch as he reached down to finger Ulaz asshole, while spreading himself wider.

The chance to see Ulaz relax, to give up his control- imagining his own smirk as Ulaz came undone, standing up to give him a kiss-

Shiro already had one hand wrapped around his cock, but he rolled face down onto the sheets, hips rutting against the firm surface as his mind went even further. Imagining getting to his feet, gently pushing Ulaz back for a kiss. The large alien nuzzling him, willingly laying on his back in invitation.

Shiro tried to imagine what his skin and fur looked like under his armor. The markings on his face reminded Shiro of a fine boned, lithe feline, so he would be muscle and bone under that sleek fur. He settled between his thighs, and-

And he came all over the sheets.

For a moment he stared, almost surprised by the come that had erupted all over his hand and was dripping on the fabric of the bed.

He… had been fantasizing about Ulaz. The alien physician. The Galra who apparently owned him, now.

A shudder went down his back. Ulaz wasn’t going to force Shiro for sex. He wasn’t going to turn and harm him; he would have done it already if that was the case. He had plenty of opportunities.

He didn’t want Ulaz to force him, no.

(He could dream.)

He got up off the bed and snooped around for the clean sheets, and hoped that Ulaz’s sense of smell wasn’t strong enough for him to notice.

~*~*~*~*~

How many fights now? How many deaths? He couldn’t remember.

Shiro looked down at his hands, at the ichor and gore covering his sword.

He couldn’t rightfully say they made him sick anymore. Because they didn’t, not really. But they were more and more often against slaves, fresh prisoners, people who couldn’t fight back.

He refused to kill when he could. He would go for the knockout blow. But he heard the arena masters promising the newcomers that they would have their freedom if they could manage to strike him down.

They had realized that he would fight for his own life. He had to. Beating monsters who would easily enjoy killing new prisoners… he could make himself live with that. He could rationalize it.

The arena masters wanted to present him slaughtering innocents. The narrative that had risen about him was of a savage beast from an unknown corner of the universe, caught and dragged out for their amusement. A small, brilliant killer.

He just stood there over the body of the young, fit alien they had sent against him. They had been laughing, shocked to be up against someone so small and weak. Their expression had turned to terror when they had realized that Shiro was so far above them in skill. Shiro had let the fight draw out- he had hoped to exhaust this newcomer and finally go to a knockout- when something had changed.

The alien had lost their cheer, their confidence. They had gone from being skilled, tempered, to completely and utterly losing their reservations. They had launched at Shiro, flying into a frothing rage, shrieking vitriol. They had overcommitted to swings. Shiro had dumped them on their ass (or, well, the central location their locomotive limbs radiated from) and had gotten behind them, bringing up his sword in a guard-

When he felt the shock of the alien’s body as they all but dived onto his sword.

He would never get used to the way it felt, or the way it sounded. Internal organs trying to function and move, a rattle or a whistle from whatever tried to exchange gases for respiration. The smell. Always, always, that foul smell of death as those rabid, angry eyes met his and went blank and dull.

Something had been wrong there.

Shiro looked around, casting about until he found a small dart, lying discarded in the sand. The arena floor was sandy, because it made the mess of dead bodies easier to clear. It also meant that the trail of his opponent’s steps was simple to follow. He frowned.

A few moments later he was escorted off the killing ground and a machine came to collect the dead body.

Shiro wasn’t sure what had happened. He barely reacted when Ulaz put a hand on his shoulder, steering him back to his quarters, which had been Shiro’s own for some weeks, and…

“You do not appear to be injured,” Ulaz said after a moment. “Which is impressive. I was concerned when the Byraxian became enraged.”

“Yeah. That was… odd,” Shiro mumbled, licking his lips.

Ulaz exhaled. “Will you be all right?” he said, putting one of his large hands on the side of Shiro’s face.

And Shiro… let him. Leaned into it, felt himself tremble in the aftermath of his adrenaline crash. Listened to Ulaz make a soft sound that had him opening his eyes, to see concern and care on Ulaz face. And despite the nausea churning his gut, Shiro still felt surprise and wonder about it.

“I don’t know,” he answered.

“Will you be able to clean yourself?”

Shiro nodded mechanically, getting to his feet and stripping off his smock and peeling off his body suit, not quite aware of how Ulaz was staring at him until he glanced back and noticed. Blushed. Ducked into the bathing room quickly.

He found one of Ulaz’s shirts just outside the door. Ulaz must have stolen his clothes. (That he had dumped on the floor. Irrationally- but everything about this situation was irrational- he wondered what his mother would think of him for that. And he hadn’t thought of her in… he pushed the thought away.)

The shirt was big, and soft, and Shiro had to roll up the sleeves. (He remembered, bizarrely, the last time his girlfriend had stolen one of his shirts and how it had swallowed her whole.)

He frowned; the tiny dart he had slipped into his sleeve had dropped out when Ulaz had picked up after him. (And he really, _really_ , needed to have a conversation with Ulaz about his behavior. Because he was being treated more like a guest than a supposed sex slave. But hell if he was _complaining_.)

The tall alien was puttering at the small food prep area, head tilting back and forth as he swayed, putting out what looked to be fresh food, he assumed it was food, out on the tiny work area and crooning something under his breath.

Ulaz sang while he cooked. It reminded Shiro vaguely of _enka_ , and he had been careful not to comment when he did it. He didn’t want Ulaz to bring up his guard… Shiro liked seeing this. It was cute as hell. (The prisoner in the back of his mind said he should take advantage of this. He should try to use this moment to escape, he should-)

Shiro’s shoulders twitched as he made a fist around the small dart. 

The tall, gangly alien was a… a person. He was fanatically neat, he seemed to enjoy reading and keeping up with his chosen field, and had started to ask Shiro questions about his life and culture.

His back was to Shiro. Hell, he _slept_ with Shiro in the room. He was leaving himself vulnerable. Trusting. 

The guards never did. Most prisoners, even if he had known them for some time and had a rapport of sorts, were leery of it. Ulaz was wearing a loose black shirt that left his neck vulnerable, sheer enough that Shiro could see the soft patterns of lavender and white under it.

Shiro swallowed, forgetting the dart in his hand. He had the urge to walk up, to touch one of his arms, run his fingers along the line of his hips and breathe in his scent. Ask him about his day. Ask Ulaz for more stories and offer his own.

He wanted to touch.

He shivered, grip shifting, and a sharp pain dragged across his hand. He yelped, dropping the dart, looking down as blood welled up in his palm. He heard his name called, and looked up to see Ulaz, and-

And-

The next few moments were flashes of heat, light, heart thundering against his ribcage. Instinct, frustration, denial-

A slap across his face.

“Shiro- Shiro!” a voice called, and Shiro blinked, panting, struggling to breathe against the literal weight on his chest.

Because Ulaz was sitting on him.

“Are you back with me?” he asked, and Shiro went limp, trying to figure out what was going on.

“I- I- yes.” He shuddered. “What- why are you sitting on me?” An impertinent question. Back in the slave pens he would have been beaten for it.

Ulaz, on the other hand, looked relieved. “Do you know me?”

“Ulaz. You’re… you’re the gladiator physician.” Ulaz dragged his knuckles over the side of his face. “You’re, um, my patron.”

His shoulders sagged, before he moved to get off Shiro. “Then it seems you are yourself again.” He offered Shiro a hand, and Shiro took it, hissing when he realized he had offered his injured one.

“What happened?”

“I am not sure. You attempted to overpower me, but in a manner that did not suggest a desire for escape or was consistent with your usual personality,” Ulaz said quietly, and Shiro blinked.

“What?”

“You weren’t yourself. What’s the last thing you remember?”

Shiro took a deep breath and looked around. The last thing he remembered, he had been admiring Ulaz and…

The room had been clean, before. Now the food was scattered across the floor, the easy chair and his cot upturned. Ulaz looked ruffled, his shirt torn, red smeared over his face and across the ragged edges of his clothes.

“I- I was, I was standing over there. I just came out of the shower and was watching you.” Shiro gulped; his ribs ached, but they weren’t broken. “Just thinking that- that- you looked peaceful and,” he stuttered, stopped, breathing out hard from his nose, and frowned. Started looking around. “I found a dart in the arena today. I brought it back but-“

“The messy kill had you distracted,” Ulaz finished. He was frowning, but his expression was perturbed in a way that Shiro had never seen before. “Tell me about this dart?”

Shiro sketched out the odd events of the earlier battle: the alien being cautious, then sudden berserker fury, finally throwing himself onto Shiro’s blade.

“You couldn’t have told me earlier?” Ulaz asked, ears and brows all lifting. Shiro grimaced. “My apologies. You weren’t in much shape to.”

“I… I should have mentioned it to you,” Shiro answered. He stepped forward-

And Ulaz flinched.

Shiro’s eyes widened. “What did I do?” Ulaz looked away. “Please. I…” He, what? Ulaz was still one of the enemy. (Except he _wasn’t_ ) Shiro had every obligation to escape (except that he clearly hadn’t tried.) “I hurt you. How did I..?”

Ulaz flinched again. “Your actions were, hm, amorous.” And this time, Shiro found himself flinching. “When I questioned them, you became… aggressive. When I asked you to stop-“

Shiro stared. “I’m sorry,” he said, feeling as if cold water had been dropped over his head. He had… he had hurt the only person he cared about in this hell hole-

Ulaz met his eyes. “It was not your fault.” He started rooting around, obviously looking for something. “Where was the last place you-“

Shiro got the hint, and got down on his hands and knees, feeling into all the crevices that Ulaz was too big to fit into. Not that there were terribly many. Most of things were built into the ship itself, but-

Something sharp bit his fingers, and Shiro yelped in surprise. Heat rushed down his arm, but Shiro hissed, gripping it and dragging his arm out and fighting to keep control of himself.

He barely managed.

Behind him was Ulaz, who had somehow found a pair of gloves, and took the tiny dart out of Shiro’s hand and put it into a small, opaque black bag.

Shiro sat back, panting hard.

“Do you think you can make it to my laboratory?” Ulaz asked, sealing the bag. “I want to monitor you. I have an idea of what may be in this dart but I am not sure.”

Shiro nodded.

~*~*~*~*~

Ulaz quarters were not far from the medical wing, barely a handful of steps, and Shiro was glad of it.

His mind was still focused, but he was aware of… he was aware of _everything_. The subtle breeze of the air filters on his skin, the sound of Ulaz equipment humming as he analyzed the dart. The faint scent, one that he remembered, one he _knew_ , clinging to the room and he couldn’t identify the source.

“It seems to be a drug designed to increase aggression and lower individual inhibitions,” Ulaz said after a moment. “I’ve seen something like it before.” He pushed back and stared at Shiro, who had been pacing like a caged lion. “It is difficult to use. Biochemistry varies so much between species that its effects are not consistent.”

Shiro tried to relax his shoulders, but that soft, pleasant scent would get stronger the closer he came to the center of the room and he would get tense again.

“How did it affect me?”

“I think what this new version is a gestalt, of sorts,” Ulaz answered. “It heightens emotions that you are already feeling instead of seeking to induce others. That is why it would be introduced into someone already fighting- the body would already be activating all of its self-defense mechanisms. It would merely increase them. What are you feeling now?”

“Nervous, tense, anxious… I feel like there is someone going to come in any moment to hurt you,” he said, and then slapped a hand over his mouth, then looked away. “I’m angry and guilty about what happened.”

“And before?” his tone was soft, without being distant and clinical. “You were not initially violent, Shiro,” he said after Shiro refused to answer. “The damage happened when you refused to stop after I asked you and pushed you away when you didn’t.”

Shiro rocked on his heels. “I was… feeling confused. You were humming and looking peaceful and…” He grimaced, because the rush of remembered feeling was both thrilling and embarrassing because- “… you were cute. I wanted to touch you.”

“You wanted to touch me,” Ulaz repeated, tilting his head.

Shiro coughed. “Your fur looks soft.” He realized he was twisting his fingers. He was acting like a grade schooler with a crush. “I haven’t touched anyone since coming here. Just to hurt people. I needed- I wanted-“

Ulaz shivered, fur suddenly standing on end. “I haven’t had anyone touch me in some time.”

“Why-“

The door opened, and Shiro heard Ulaz hiss as Sendak came inside. The large commander was grinning like he the cat that had caught the proverbial canary.

“Ah, I see you found the new project I was working…” he started, then trailed off.

Took a long, deep breath of the recycled air, his tongue hanging out and snorting.

Another chill went down Shiro’s back as Sendak’s face split in a cruel smile.

“Well, that is a surprise,” Sendak purred. He strolled, tongue still tasting the air, up to Ulaz, who came to his feet and shoved his chair between them. “Tell me, Ulaz, did you claim the slave as a means of camouflage, or for your perversions?”

“I’m not sure I understand your meaning,” Ulaz answered. He was reaching behind himself, backing away even as he stayed on guard.

“When would you have let your fellows find out?” he said, walking in closer. “Surely the random appearance of one of those odd, hairless little aliens would have given it away?”

Ulaz’s hackles were rising, a growl. “Your insinuations do you no credit, given how many of your by-blows I’ve had to dispose of.”

Shiro swallowed hard.

No one was between him and the door. If he had ever wanted the chance to escape… now was it.

Except that Sendak was getting closer to Ulaz and his intent was clear.

He would try to rationalize it later. But instead of taking the opportunity to run to freedom, he circled back, watching Ulaz with narrowed eyes.

“I’m surprised that someone like you has risen so high up the hierarchy, and yet became broody so young,” Sendak went on. “Did you leave your toy in its case? Didn’t you know that they’re meant to be played with? Or did you enjoy it when your training masters gave you discipline? You enjoyed it when they made you scream?”

The words were vile. Disgusting. And Ulaz’s back was against a wall. 

He moved, slamming into Sendak and knocking him to the side, while Ulaz twisted away. The big Commander recovered quickly, though, regaining his balance and throwing Shiro into a wall. Ulaz snarled, striking out with a blade that seemed to grow from nothing, making Sendak dodge before he came in for the kill.

But Sendak was soon able to strike with his own sword, and Ulaz, for all his speed, lacked Sendak’s sheer bulk. 

“Don’t worry, physician,” Sendak said, all scathing contempt. “I’m not going to kill you. I’ve been looking for a broodmare for some-”

Ulaz fell back, his blade knocked from his hands.

Shiro stared as the blade shrank down, returning to the size of a dagger. The size of something he could easily wield.

Sendak stood across from Ulaz, shaking his head. “Truly, I should have recognized you for what you are, broodmare. Weak. You coddle the gladiators, almost hanging off your teats. Replacement whelps that you do not have. Don’t worry, I plan to fix-“

Shiro dived, grabbing for the blade and sliding on his belly before rolling to his feet.

It didn’t change form, but that wasn’t what he needed it for. Surging forward, he thrust out, aiming for a headshot-

The damn bastard was still too quick, but the slash of the blade caught his eye, making Sendak scream as he struck out, sending the blade into the air again-

Only for Ulaz to catch it.

He didn’t hesitate, bringing the blade down, down into Sendak’s left shoulder, parting his weapon hand from his body and watching it fly across the room while the big Galra howled in pain.

“You think this is over?” he asked, climbing to his feet.

“Yes. Soon you will exsanguinate,” Ulaz replied, breathing hard. “And there is no medical help available. None, save me.”

Sendak had already fallen to his knees.

“What do you want from me?”

“Nothing.” Shiro blinked through blurry eyes to see Ulaz leaning over him. He found himself smiling up at him, stupidly. “You have nothing to offer me. In fact, seeing your death would bring me much pleasure.”

Ulaz, he decided, was pretty.

Sendak tried to get to his feet again, hissing in anger. “You- there will be reprisals-“

“That you would not live to see. You have less than a dobash, Commander. Beg well.”

Shiro was lifted to his feet, and promptly started patting down Ulaz. Because Shiro, in his addled state, decided that Ulaz was amazing.

“Victory or death,” Sendak whispered, breath coming in deep pants.

Ulaz made eye contact with him. “Quite. True. Twenty ticks, Commander.”

“I can give you military codes!”

“Oh? Hm. I suppose I can be moved,” Ulaz said. “Very well, Commander. Say them quickly.”

Sendak whispered, while Ulaz reached for his tablet, holding it to his mouth. A moment later, Sendak was unconscious.

Shiro watched as Ulaz went to work, admiring, in a half-addled way, how efficiently Ulaz could put someone back together again.

“You haven’t given him any pain killers,” Shiro said after a moment. Ulaz grunted.

“I don’t intend to. I am also going to remove his gonads while I have the opportunity.”

Shiro’s jaw dropped, before closing his knees. “What?”

“Sendak has forced himself on my people, Shiro. Slaves because he could get away with it easily, and fellow Galra who were well below his rank. I have had to terminate the fetuses of several females he forcibly bred or smuggled the infant away. One of my mentors has often been the subject of his ‘attentions,’” Ulaz snarled, and Shiro shuddered.

“Remind me not to make you angry,” he said, wandering over to watch him put Sendak on a floating gurney. “Ever.”

“Then please, go back to our quarters and rest,” Ulaz ordered. “I will be back when I am finished here.”

Shiro did as he was told, and didn’t even notice that the door opened for him despite being told it shouldn’t.

Instead he found himself in the middle of Ulaz quarters, staring at the damage, and shifting his weight back and forth trying to figure out what the hell just happened.

Sendak’s words bounced around in his head, even as they sickened him. He had gotten the impression that the upper ranks of the Galra were abusive dicks, but…

His thoughts screeched to a halt. Oh. _Oh_.

Ulaz comments on Galra biology, and how he had not been touched in a long time, how he camouflaged his own scent literally all the time. The odd, soft scent that seemed to be lurking under everything… why Ulaz had never tried to use him for sex, but allowed others to think that he was.

(Ulaz wouldn’t have anyways, part of him insisted. He knew that)

He cleaned up the mess from dinner, took a shower, and finally passed out on Ulaz bed, curling around a body pillow. How long he slept, he wasn’t sure. He nearly jumped out of his skin when the door suddenly opened, though, and Ulaz walked back inside.

He looked like ten miles of bad road. His fur was dull, face grim, ears and eyes drooping, and the lines on his face were deep and furrowed. There was dark Galra blood dried into his crest and splattered across his clothes. His entire carriage was rigid.

Shiro sat up, walked over. “Welcome home.” _Okaeri nasai_.

Ulaz closed his eyes, briefly, before nodding to Shiro. “I’m back,” he answered, completing the ritual. “I’m going to wash. I need to clean off his filth.”

Shiro crossed his legs, watching Ulaz back as the door slid shut behind him to the bathing room.

He got to his feet, pulled out a clean set of clothes and set them out. Cooking was out, but he could get him some water…

He stopped. Looked at what he was doing.

He wondered if this was some kind of Stockholm syndrome. He could have taken the opportunity to escape during the brawl. Instead he had chosen to stay and help Ulaz. After the brawl, he could have slipped out and tried to get to away.

He hadn’t. He hadn’t at all.

And here he was, trying to help his owner.

Shiro snorted, stared at the door. Turned back to the shower. Realized that Ulaz had spent a long time in there without coming out.

He frowned and walked over- and he was both surprised and not surprised when the door opened for him- and found Ulaz in a heap, leaned against the wall and shivering in the cold water.

Shiro crouched down and knuckle walked into the shower, ignoring the water soaking through his clothes.

“Ulaz?”

He glanced over at Shiro, and blinked several times. “I’m sorry.” He struggled to get up. “You shouldn’t be-“

Shiro swallowed. “He didn’t have the right to do that to you.” Ulaz looked away. “What he threatened you with. He had no right to do it.” Ulaz hugged his knees. “He had no right to hurt anyone.”

“Of course I know, Shiro. And there is no way I will ever be able to help all of his victims,” Ulaz said, and he sounded utterly exhausted. “But that was a close call I had not anticipated.”

“You never saw yourself becoming the victim,” Shiro surmised.

Ulaz grimaced. “If I slip up, it will not just be myself who falls, and I cannot risk that. And that he nearly got to me because I am- because I-“

Shiro crab-walked in closer, and reached out, one hand hovering over his shoulder. “May I touch you?” he asked. “I… for comfort, and because I want to reassure myself you’re okay. I was worried.”

Ulaz nodded, and Shiro dropped his hand on Ulaz shoulder. The fur there was much denser than it looked, and the purple was much darker now that it was wet. It felt odd, as he let himself move up to his brush the back of Ulaz neck, and-

That smell, the one that drove him crazy earlier, flooded the small space and Ulaz made a small sound, somewhere between a coo and a squeak. Shiro stared, and felt something stir in his belly that he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

He glided his hands up the side of Ulaz neck and to his jaw, and to his delight, he heard Ulaz start to purr along with making that small chirping sound again. Shiro liked those.

“Shiro-“ Ulaz crooned, and Shiro realized his petting had gone down almost to Ulaz waist, hovering over his navel. (And Shiro blinked because… they had something so simple in common as a _navel_. And he had something like nipples. Shiro nearly pulled his hands back.)

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, and realized that he was hard, harder than he had been in years, because this large, exotic alien was letting him feel him up.

Ulaz’s eyes fluttered, before he shook his head. “Let’s… continue someplace else.”

Shiro groaned, biting his tongue to keep from swearing as they got up. He didn’t know how to stop his hands from wandering, even as he shed his clothes and snagged a towel, before Ulaz sat down on the edge of the bed.

“I put this off as long as I could,” Ulaz breathed, leaning down and-

It was exactly as he wanted to be kissed. Deep, filthy, not holding back and just enough teeth to make it exciting. He moaned into it, putting his hands on Ulaz shoulders and pushing him backwards… and he went, almost eagerly, and Shiro’s mouth watered as that smell got stronger.

He crouched between Ulaz legs, breathing raggedly, staring at Ulaz groin and licking his lips.

He had seen Sendak naked in the showers, once, watching him rape another slave.

Ulaz… wasn’t that. Instead, he had a thick nub, about the size of the tip of his thumb, swollen and coming from a sheath at the top of his groin, like an oversized clit.

Underneath that was a long slit, where that smell seemed strongest. He traced it, watching them part eagerly as Ulaz made that same crooning noise. His ‘owner’ was biting his bottom lip and looking away.

“Are you okay?” Shiro murmured. “If you want me to stop-“

Ulaz’s chest was fluttering as he shook his head. “I’ve… wanted this for far too long. But I was never going to ask,” he whispered, voice deep and gravely. “I am using my position over you for-“

Shiro leaned down and licked at Ulaz’s pussy lips, letting his tongue part the flesh; they were wet, and that was the source of the smell.

“So I just had to ask?” Shiro answered. He found the small hole hidden by the lips. The flesh itself was flushed a dark mauve, the slick that was more viscous than a human’s, but still slippery. And the channel itself was _tight_. “All I had to do was say that I wanted to touch you, and you would have been okay with that?”

Ulaz swallowed hard as Shiro dipped in one finger, then two, his large paws fisting the covers. “Yes. I could not- this situation has me in power over you- and I would not force myself-“ and his back arched beautifully as Shiro’s probing found something sensitive.

Shiro took a deep breath, his cock hard and wanting. “When was the last time you-“

Ulaz nervous laughter shook the bed. “Not since I… giving that away would have been…”

Shiro blinked. Looked up at him. “No one else?”

“If I was discovered by other Galra while still in the military, Sendak would not have been alone,” Ulaz answered. Shiro didn’t stop moving his fingers, and brushed his thumb over Ulaz’s small dick.

Ulaz’s muscles tightened like a vice when he did that. “… inside me, please,” he murmured. “I want to touch you.”

“And I thought you weren’t supposed to ask?” Shiro teased, surprised by his boldness. “Should I just tell you?”

Ulaz’s grip on the covers tightened. “Please. I have been waiting-“

And Shiro pulled his fingers free of Ulaz’s soft, wet little hole, licking them clean. His brain went blank as a shiver went down his spine and settled into his cock and he fought to get some control back, looking down at his clothes and quickly pulling off his body suit.

The large Galra made a hungry sound, even as Shiro stared. “On your hands and knees,” he ordered, and Ulaz complied, burying his face in his pillows and canting his hips back. The sight was glorious- wet, warm and flushed- and Shiro took a moment to appreciate it before gripping Ulaz ass and taking a long swipe with his tongue along the lips, then flicking it around the rim, inside, listening to Ulaz pant and mew. The soft pleading was heady; the sound of the large Galra, so strong and powerful, reduced to whimpers was delightful.

“Are you ready?” Shiro said after a moment as he licked his lips.

Ulaz gave a shuddering breath. “Wait.” He fumbled under his pillow, pulling something out. “Barrier. Should use a barrier. Friend was…” And he shook, hands opening the case. “Humans are very…” he shook his head. “Simple. Put it in over the opening.”

Shiro found a small case thrust into his hands, and he opened it, inspecting the contents: for all intents and purposes, a cervical cap. 

“Highly illegal, but I can’t take the risk,” Ulaz mumbled. “The legal contraceptives have a high failure rate.”

Shiro swallowed as he fumbled, taking the cap out and pressing it inside Ulaz. His cervix was easy to find, and the cap slid in place.

The slick dripping out of him got heavier, as Ulaz looked back at him. “For the first and last time, please…”

Shiro positioned himself, gripping Ulaz hips and slid home as well.


	4. Chapter 4

Footprints in the Sand, Chapter 4

Ulaz had known that, from the moment he had chosen to not allow Sendak to bleed out, there might be reprisals.

Ulaz was unassailable through normal means. Sendak could _try_ to assault him directly, but there was proof that he had failed to dominate Ulaz writ large on his body. 

Or Ulaz could show off his ‘trophies,’ which he kept in a specimen jar on his desk.

They were at an impasse. Sendak revealed Ulaz’s status, Ulaz would reveal that Sendak was no longer potent. While Ulaz would surely suffer, Sendak would never recover his place in the hierarchy. 

An indirect attack might have been a possibility. But he was careful with his droids to prevent tampering. The other vector might come from the gladiators he tended to, but that was also unlikely. They knew well that Ulaz was their medic, and often the only person who would give them a peaceful release from their torment if necessary. Another might not have the same compassion.

Shiro, on the other hand…

Shiro was in the arena almost every quintant. 

Shiro was a Champion of legend, now. Shiro was feared. Envied, for his victories and his place in Ulaz’s quarters. Shiro was vulnerable in a way that Ulaz wasn’t.

On days he wasn’t in the arena, he spent time in the gymnasium. It was a time that was strictly supervised.

Sendak spread his patronage to many gladiators, and that patronage was often the only advantage they were afforded. Ulaz himself provided a moment’s respite to those he could treat. Shiro was an upstart who selfishly kept Ulaz’s patronage to himself.

He should have known that this was how Sendak would get his revenge.

It was always horrifying when Shiro was brought in after a gladiator match. While he had come to expect it, it never stopped the gut churning grief and rage that his little human would suffer so much. And this time was no different.

Shiro’s right hand was almost completely destroyed. It was his weapon hand, and it looked like it had been the victim of some sort of acid attack. The ends of his fingers were completely gone, leaving only the metacarpals, barely hanging on by the tendons. The flesh around them was melted.

Ulaz had to ignore his screaming, as he walked up the floating stretcher and injected an anesthetic into Shiro’s neck as his blood pooled and dripped onto the floor. He followed with a coagulant to stop the bleeding.

It wasn’t an accident. It couldn’t have been. The gladiator Shiro had fought that day had no natural venom or dangerous fluids, only a bladed tail. Something that should have killed Shiro quickly, if that had been the intent. This was Sendak sending his toys to break Ulaz’s.

There was no saving the hand as it was. This moment was something he had feared, even before, given how often Shiro had taken damage to it. Perhaps, if he was quick and got Shiro to safety, could clone a new limb, but that would take time and resources that he feared he wasn’t allowed to-

There had always been many eyes on Shiro. His own, the Blade of Marmora (who refused to act, despite Ulaz’s pleading) and, of course, Haggar’s.

The druids materialized around him like ancient, tattered rags in water. “Are you going to dispose of him?” one asked, its voice echoing through nightmares. Ulaz fought to keep his face straight and his fur flat.

“No. Prisoner 117-9875 has been an investment project of mine,” he started to protest, when the temperature in the med bay dropped several degrees, a whisper of air on the back of his neck making him afraid to turn around.

“Then you will not object if we were to… protect your investment,” Haggar said. Ulaz turned towards her in segments: head, torso, finally feet, even if he stayed poised to run.

The favor of the druids was the only reason Ulaz had as much freedom as he had now. His work to preserve gladiators with great potential had been a boon to them.

Ulaz knew where this was going. He had always known, but even so. He had wanted to spare Shiro as long as he could. Because while he had no idea what the future might hold, there were some things that were inevitable.

“Very well. I offer my services.”

“They are not required,” she said dismissively.

“On the contrary. You will find no one else understands the Champion’s anatomy as well as I,” Ulaz replied, back stiff and carriage formal. “If you wish to… preserve him, then I am the one you must speak with.”

Haggar’s eyes narrowed, but there were no true objections she could raise. She was infamous for being rough on her toys, and some care needed to be taken with unknown species.

But it was equally true he could not tell her no, despite his status as Shiro’s keeper.

So they were at a stalemate.

“Save his life, physician,” she said quietly. “And then we will turn him into a weapon that will make the universe tremble.”

~*~*~*~*~

The progress on Shiro had been daunting.

Not from a scientific perspective. Shiro’s life had been preserved, and the design and application of his prosthesis had gone smoothly.

There had been other complications. The Blade of Marmora did not approve of his focus on Shiro, and would rather he investigate the validity of the codes he had gotten from Sendak. (They seemed legitimate enough for now…)These things had required that Ulaz leave Shiro’s side.

But then the same scouting party that had discovered Shiro, discovered the Blue Lion on Earth.

Thace had nearly been in hysterics, or as close to hysterics as he would come when he uncovered this and passed it on. Ulaz did his best to calm his friend, even as he made quick calculations.

The Holts had disappeared long ago, sent to a mining colony and Ulaz had been unable to track them. Thace might, but they were out of reach. Thace, possibly, could find his lover and child and speak with them, but that would require him leaving the post he had spent deca-phoebs achieving.

There was only one person who could do it. And he…

“Who are you?” Shiro yelled as he was dragged, kicking and screaming into the examination room.

Ulaz’s heart turned to ashes in his chest. “The prisoner seems quite agitated,” he stated to one of the druid assistants.

“He had become too difficult to control, so his memory of the last year was wiped to make him more pliable,” the Galra said, bored and uncaring.

Ulaz was still for a moment as Shiro thrashed, yelling that they took his hand, what more did they want? What more-

The same assistant grabbed a sedative, about to insert it, when Ulaz stopped him. “I want him to feel it,” he said… Before he struck, taking out the two aides in short order.

He couldn’t change his plans now. The explosives were already in place. The way to the drone ship was clear. His faith in Shiro was all that he had to guide him.

But he did. He had that faith. The man in front of him was as lost and frightened as he had been when he had first come into Ulaz’s care, but he would survive.

That, Ulaz knew beyond a shadow of a doubt. And when Shiro’s shuttle left, and Ulaz took his own, he felt his faith restored. They would see each other again. He knew it.

That certainty was tested, though. Thace sent the Blades consistent reports about the re-emerged Voltron, and they were a balm on Ulaz’s soul. Thaldycon was a distant base, one that usually had few inhabitants. It was used almost entirely as a communications hub and that meant being a relay.

Yet time drug on. He developed a routine of exercise, checking reports, checking diagnostics, eating and then exercising again. They were mundane things.

But he found himself turning to ask Shiro a question, to get his observations.

Shiro was not there.

And he had to remind himself, yet again, that what he had with Shiro was only ever going to be temporary. They had been approaching the end of their relationship even before he had taken Shiro to his bed; even knowing that, he should have worked harder to free Shiro.

Perhaps he should have made his feelings for Shiro known earlier, and he would not be feeling this regret now.

But he couldn’t have. He had too much power over Shiro, and having finally given into his want left him feeling guilty and dirtied, no matter how much he had enjoyed it.

And then Shiro had not recognized him. That had terrified him more than words could say.

There was a quiet part of his mind that was steadily sinking into despair, almost drowning when the base’s sensors picked up a unique ship profile. The only vessel that matched it came from one of Thace’s reports: the ship that accompanied Voltron to rescue the Altean Princess.

Ulaz’s curiosity twitched at that. Alteans. They were a species that were said to have gone extinct at the dawn of the Empire, and now only existed as cryptids. No verifiable reports of them had been made in nearly ten thousand years.

But, while he had a good guess that this was who had come, and he had no real reason to believe it was anyone else, giving away the position of his base would have been foolish. Shooting himself through space had been easy enough, because they had no particle barrier. But they did seem to have enough security to recognize an intruder.

His first opponent was a youth in blue, with a blaster, and Ulaz was able to dodge past. His next opponent was a tiny figure in green that overestimated their own strength. Amusingly, it seemed that there was some friendly fire from the one in yellow.

Ulaz was having fun. Especially listening to that odd voice insulting his own people as they went. It would have kept on being amusing… until he heard a name.

Keith.

It took several moments of battle for the name to filter through his mind. He had not thought of Thace’s whelp in decaphoebs. But when he blocked his sword, and Keith stared at him- at his Marmora blade- he realized that something was odd.

He knocked Keith’s weapon from his hand.

Really, watching these whelps try to fight the most entertainment he had had in years. He was able to throw Keith into a clump of his friends, and was about to continue his run when a familiar buzz shivered the air behind him, and drew his sword to strike-

It was Shiro.

Lowering his weapon, Ulaz removed his mask and cowl and gazed at the small human. He knew that his time was almost upon him, if Shiro had no idea who he was-

And he was promptly slapped into a wall by his elusive cryptids.

He hadn’t believed it when he glanced at her. But his attention was almost entirely taken up by focusing on Shiro. 

“You’re here,” he breathed, fighting the urge to reach out, to touch his face, stroke his body. (do you remember? What do you remember now?)

But, keeping his face neutral had been a survival strategy when he had been working for the druids. Yet there was a part of him that desperately wanted to swivel his neck, to stare at the oddness of this ancient ship. To ask so many questions.

“We can give you the ten cent tour later,” Shiro said as they walked. Allura had Ulaz arms twisted behind him, and Shiro was at his side. “I imagine you have questions.”

“Or gas. I can’t really tell,” the one in yellow, Hunk, asked. Shiro lifted an eyebrow.

He looked so happy here. Perhaps it was a blessing, that he had lost his memories of the gladiator arena and the pit. The anxiousness and horror had been shoved aside. Part of him could feel nothing but gratitude for that.

“Your ship is a marvel of construction,” Ulaz answered. “Is it original craftsmanship?”

“It’s all that’s left!” the Altean princess snapped. They arrived in what seemed to be a room for leisure, even if it was absurdly bright. His hands and feet were bound.

He could break out. The Princess postured. Ulaz told her that he could have killed them all. And it was true. If he had wanted to finish them off, he could have.

“But you are with Shiro, and that means I will welcome you to our base.”

Of course, there were questions of its location. The curiosity on the faces of these young ones was a pleasure to see. They reminded him so much of young recruits or whelps, barely grown into their limbs.

They eventually came to the conclusion that they would need to take a Lion to visit his base.

Keith volunteered to take them, almost immediately, his eyes following Ulaz’s blade.

From what he remembered, he had thought Keith’s sire would surely have told him of his heritage. That he had no recognition of what the blade meant, who Ulaz was, and he made no mention of his dam, was a surprise.

It would make a certain amount of sense for his sire to have left out that information. Earth was a backwater, on the opposite side of their supercluster away from the Hub, the main fleet and even most resistance movements. If the Blue Lion had not been detected on Earth… even then, there had been a possibility that Keith would never have gotten involved. Keith would have lived out his life as a simple human.

That he was here at all would break Thace’s heart.

Ulaz tried to ignore the warmth rolling off Shiro. Tried to not imagine burying his face in his neck and shoulders, tasting his skin, begging for his touch; the loneliness had clearly addled him. So he distracted himself by talking about Slav. Thinking of the eccentric genius was an effective way to bring himself back to reality.

“So there are Galra out there that aren’t loyal to Zarkon?” Keith asked, not turning to look at Ulaz but he could feel so much meaning under his words.

How to explain in as succinctly as possible..? No, not even most Galra were loyal. They were loyal to the status quo, to feeling safe. They were loyal to each other, and afraid. But most of those sounded like he was dodging guilt.

“We had thought that expanding the Galra empire would bring stability,” Ulaz said. “We learned too late, that a tyrant doesn’t seek stability, only power.” To his surprise, he felt a small hand cover his and he glanced over to see Shiro had-

He tried not to read too much into it. Shiro hadn’t known him. There were more questions pertaining to the Blade, and it was hard not to directly tell Keith what his dam had done to save them after their foolish attack on Zarkon’s command. Thace hadn’t known the identity of the Paladins when he had chosen to intervene.

He had merely been a hero. Ulaz hoped he would be half as brave as Thace when the time came.

“You are Katie Holt?” Ulaz asked when the little green one asked him about her family later. Shiro had mentioned the Holts frequently. The child jolted in surprise; actually, they all did.

“Shiro mentioned your family from time to time. I could not track them directly. But we do have prisoner records here. You are welcome to them,” Ulaz offered. That was when he noticed that Shiro, and the rest of the Paladins, were staring at him.

“Shiro… mentioned my family. How, in the context of torture?” Katie asked. (though he had thought they used a different name for her. Interesting)

“In the context of me piecing together a shattered scapula.” He reached over and took Shiro’s right arm, and the rest of the children stared at him as he drew Shiro’s arm out. “While you fought you had a frequent habit of taking damage to your right side. A very large and powerful gladiator had hit you-“ and he tapped Shiro’s back “here. The bone was broken into many pieces. We have refreshers that accelerate healing, but only that. If not mended or placed correctly, organs and bones may not come out right. They were not calibrated for non-Galra species.” And he found himself absently checking Shiro’s range of motion. “There were times when Shiro would start talking when I gave him pain medication. His concerns for your family were a common topic.” He let Shiro go, who pulled the limb back.

“I don’t remember any of that,” Shiro said quietly, eyes wide and dark and surprised.

“I would not expect you to,” Ulaz said after a moment. “The druids, when you proved difficult, chose to block much of your memory.”

Shiro let out air, breathing slowly. “I see.”

“It may be for the best.” Ulaz turned away from them, and changed the subject as he touched the holo-input. “I will send my message.”

There was quiet for a few moments. He could feel their eyes on his back as he finished composing and sending his message to the Blade of Marmora command. “Katie Holt,” he said, pulling up a records terminal. “Here is what we have. Please, make use of it.”

The look of terrified, anguished hope on her face was almost too much to bear, so he turned away. 

He found himself facing Shiro. A Shiro with his lips taut, eyes narrowed into a stare. “We need to talk,” he said, and he took Ulaz hand, leading them… well, it was clear Shiro had no idea where he was going. Just away from the others. “And I need answers.” His voice took on an edge of desperation. “Please.”

“What do you want to know?” Ulaz replied. They had gone off into a branching corridor, but not into the nearby lab or living quarters. 

“Why do I trust you?” he said, voice rising with confusion. “Because I do.” He was barely a hand width from Ulaz and he didn’t even notice. “Why do I want to-“ he reached out, putting his hands on Ulaz arms. “Even when I didn’t know who you were, when I woke up and you got me out, I listened to you and trusted-“

“You are afraid,” Ulaz murmured. He lifted one hand, let his fingers glide over Shiro’s face.

“I’m afraid because I don’t understand,” Shiro said, almost hysterical. “You are-“

“I will be leaving you soon enough,” Ulaz answered. “Do not trouble yourself.” Shiro was leaning into his hand. “But I am sorry I could not care for you better. Know that.”

“That is such-“

Ulaz chuckled as he realized what all of this meant. What all of this had to mean. “I am sorry, Shiro. I am sorry that we didn’t have longer together.”

“I don’t understand-“

Ulaz knew this was the wrong thing to do. It couldn’t be anything else. But he leaned down and pressed his lips to Shiro’s hair. “For the last time.”

“What is-“

That was when the alarms went off, and Ulaz closed his eyes. “Go. Your team needs you.”

Shiro’s shoulders and chest were heaving like he had battled for vargas, before squaring his shoulders. He looked down, then up. “All right. I’ll find you.” He stepped away and went running. 

Ulaz took a long breath, nearly collapsing against the wall. Time had, it seemed, come full circle finally. It was time.

“I hope that you may.”


	5. Chapter 5

Footprints in the Sand, Chapter 5

“ _Voltron is too valuable!_ ” Ulaz snarled, and Shiro watched his tiny ship streak by. “ _The universe needs you._ ”

Since the moment Shiro had started to remember Ulaz, he had trusted him.

He couldn’t say why. But when Ulaz threw himself into the mouth of the robeast, Shiro felt like a part of himself had been ripped apart. Not to mention that he could only guess what happened to _Ulaz_ -

“He’s gone.”

That had been hours ago. In the aftermath of the battle, Shiro wandered.

The rest of the Paladins had dispersed, going to their separate routines. They were subdued, but… None of them mourned.

None of them felt the loss. It was sad that they had lost Ulaz. Yet, he was a Galra. Someone they had no reason to trust or to like but.

But.

Shiro had.

Since he had come out of the refresher with Ulaz name on his lips, he had felt like there was something more. Something missing. He couldn’t see but he could _~~feel. His fur felt like plush velvet under his fingers. His lips tasted salty, warm and firm. His teeth were sharp and his tongue agile and rough.~~_ The images were fleeting, on the edge of reality, like the last page of a book he had read years ago.

His heart ached, but he didn’t know why. He thought he could imagine ~~purring. Water. Heat. Wet, slick, cries, moans, whimpers~~

Was any of it real? Enough of it, surely; the information from his dream had been accurate. Ulaz had helped, no, saved them. Saved _him_. Again.

He found himself in an observation room, looking out into the xanthorium cluster waste and massive void left in the wake of Ulaz’s destruction of the robeast. Just like his head. A huge nothing where something important should be. Like memories.

Why did he want to go up to Ulaz and nip his ear? And why was he so sure-

“Sorry we doubted Ulaz, Shiro,” a voice said. Somehow, Keith had snuck up on him. “He saved all of our lives.”

Shiro dropped his eyes and blinked, and realized that tears were running down his cheeks. He sniffed, and wiped his face and nose on his sleeve. “I still have so many questions.”

The door hissed open behind them as Keith asked, “Do you think Zarkon is tracking us?”

“We cannot know for sure,” Allura said, walking into view. “Only Ulaz knew our whereabouts.”

Shiro drew himself up. “You can’t mean that. After Ulaz,” and he choked. “sacrificed himself?”

And Keith leapt to his defense. “Yeah, maybe Zarkon found out about this place on his own! He’s probably been searching for the Blade of Marmora!””

Allura blinked at them slowly. “It’s clear that the loss of Ulaz has caused you great concern. But regardless of how Zarkon located us, we cannot stay here any longer.”

And for some reason that made Shiro… pause. Turn to look out the observation window one last time.

Light seemed to bend. “Something’s not right,” Shiro mumbled, reaching out. “Are you done scanning the area?”

Allura lifted an eyebrow. “Yes, but most of the readings were…”

For the life of him, Shiro would never quite know why he said it. But he knew it was true. “Gravitational, right? Are they dissipating?”

Allura opened her mouth. Shut it. “I don’t know. Why do you-“

“Ulaz opened up the space pocket from inside the robeast.” Shiro licked his lips. “Would the gravitational pocket have dissipated by now?”

Allura frowned. “Let’s go talk to Coran.”

~*~*~*~*~

It had taken every ounce of persuasion that Shiro possessed, but he had managed to get Allura and Coran to investigate the area where Ulaz had been lost. The discovery that, yes, there was still a distinct anomaly, and that there was still _something_ there. It had taken most of the faith his friends had in him to get them to follow when he wanted to find, then break out, the designer of the gravity generator.

It had taken more than what sanity remained in Shiro’s head and a chanted mantra of ‘This is for Ulaz, this is for Ulaz, don’t kill him, this is for-“ to keep from strangling the genius with his bare hands.

But Slav, despite his maddening habits and complete frustrating personality, was as brilliant as they had hoped.

“Yes, there is an anomaly there,” Slav confirmed. “In seventy-three percent of realities, there is a possible pocket of space time there.”

“Is there any way we can get him out?” Shiro asked. He had to fight down the bubble of desperation in his voice. “Is there a way-“

“Well, this could be one of the realities where-“

“Can. We. Get. Him. _Out_?”

He could feel the eyes of the others on him, questioning, wondering why Shiro would risk so much for a Galra, and one they had just met. He couldn’t give a solid reason. Oh, he could bullshit them: Ulaz was their only link to the Blade of Marmora, their first possible allies, Ulaz had saved their lives, Ulaz had saved him personally.

Most of those were small compared to the risk. But Shiro…

He needed to find him. He needed answers.

He also needed to connect with his Lion and throw Zarkon off their trail.

So while the rest of the Paladins went with Coran to the swap moon, Shiro stayed behind while Slav puttered away at his console.

“I haven’t worked with anything made of transdimensional metal before,” he could hear Slav twittering to himself as he took readings off of Voltron. His glee, speaking of the Lions like they were some sort of science experiment, made Shiro uneasy. But he tried to remember his own time as a prisoner.

Slav did deserve whatever kindness he could offer, after all.

He kept moving, though, climbing into Black’s mouth as she lowered her jaws for him.

Settling inside her, he took a deep breath. Tried to focus.

His mind strayed back to Ulaz.

He didn’t need to be thinking about that. He needed to be in this moment. “Tell me what I can do to strengthen our bond,” he called to Black, closing his eyes and reaching out to her. “Show me what I need to do.”

He could feel her presence, stretching out to show him the endless void, big and beautiful and-  
He heard a soft grunt. A whine. Felt fur under both of his hands. A soft smell that made his body feel hot and strong, and he’s hovering over a much larger body and-

Shiro jerked free, looking at his hands. “That’s. Um. Black, I don’t think that’s how we bond-“

He felt a cuff to the back of his head and a soft growl. “Black, I don’t… I don’t remember anything about my time in captivity. I don’t remember _Ulaz_.” Except that some part of him did. 

He knew he did.

He was also terrified of opening up those memories. The loss of his hand, the pain- the people he knew he had killed- were ghosts that haunted his nightmares and threw shadows into his waking life.

But then he had remembered Ulaz, just for a moment, and the lock that kept him safe was rattled. “Black. Even if we had… something. I was a prisoner. I didn’t know him. That’s not exactly a healthy situation.”

He thought he could feel her under his hands; the fur was different, denser, whiskers brushing against his cheek. He closed his eyes, and he could see her; the great dam, eyes half closed with her whiskers forwards, ears tilted towards him. She took a step forward, rubbing her cheek against his face.

“I don’t get it.” He took a shuddering breath. “Black. Why did it hurt so much when he died? Why can’t I let go of him?”

Black settled down to stare at him.

“He freed me. He helped me.” He couldn’t acknowledge the rest aloud. He had felt attracted to Ulaz from the moment he had seen Ulaz fighting the other Paladins. “He’s handsome.” But there had been more, too. The smell of cooking food, like nothing he had known. A bed that was more firm than anything in the Castle of Lions.

And pain. So much pain. But Ulaz talking to him, making the pain go away. Grounding him in kindness so the pain broke and parted around it. 

“Is this why I can’t bond with you?” he said, putting his fingers into Black’s fur, and she drew her tongue up the side of his face. “Because I’m unable to move on from Ulaz?”

She gave him an affectionate headbutt- and a moment later, Black was rocketing out of the Castle and to-

~*~*~*~*~

He woke up again, after battling Zarkon on the astral plane.

That had been… _something_. He had gotten insights into who Voltron was. Into who Black was.

“I’m sorry he treated you like that,” he said to her, reaching out to Black. She was staring back at him solemnly, eyes sad. Warm. He opened his arms and she came to him, putting her head on his shoulder and purring. “You are not just a weapon. You’re alive, and you’re my friend.” He didn’t know how any of this translated to the real world, but he imagined scratching her ears and pressing their faces together. “I forgive you. Please… forgive me?”

He had doubted her. He had doubted her after what happened with Zarkon. He had thought he wasn’t worthy, didn’t deserve her affection.

He hadn’t deserved having Ulaz die for him. And Black nipped his ear as soon as he thought it. “I let him down. I couldn’t protect him.” And he couldn’t move on. Why couldn’t he?

That was when the jubilant shriek echoed through Black Lion’s chamber. “Oooh! I’ve got it! And it’s in _this_ reality!”

Shiro exchanged a look with Black, and she flicked her tail at him. She didn’t seem to know any more than he did.

“I know how to save your friend, Shiro!”

~*~*~*~*~

They had a cow.

But that wasn’t the important part. The important part was that _they had a way to get Ulaz back_.

“So, if I fly the Black Lion into the anomaly I’ll be able to bridge into whatever fold of space time that Ulaz is lost in?” Shiro asked, folding his arms.

“Yes! I have calculated that in thirty-seven percent of realities that he is absolutely fine! In the remaining he died in the crash, but you have a point seven percent chance of getting him out!” Slav crowed, writhing around the console. “It should be easy!”

“Easy, he says,” Lance muttered. He was staring at Slav. “Just a small jaunt into a gravitational anomaly, he says.”

“You took us through a wormhole,” Pidge point out. Shiro didn’t bother looking at either of them.

“And I just fly in-“

“Well, spacetime will be warped throughout the anomaly,” Slav said. “But there is a ten point five percent chance you’ll get there!”

Allura cleared her throat before taking Shiro by the back of his clothes and tugging him out of the room and into the corridor, letting the door shut between them and the rest of the Paladins. “Shiro, I know that you were greatly concerned by Ulaz loss. But you are suggesting we risk the Black Lion, not to mention your own life. In the memory of the Ancients, why should I allow you to engage in this folly?”

“He protected me during my time with the Galra,” Shiro said. “As well as being my doctor. We owe _everything_ to him, Allura. If he hadn’t freed me, I wouldn’t have been able to get to Earth before the Galra got to the Blue Lion. No Lance taking her through a wormhole. _You_ would still be asleep under the Castle decks.” He crossed his arms. “I know you don’t like the Galra, but some of them are resisting. And I’m not leaving anyone behind. Not again.”

Allura’s eyes scanned his face. “This is more personal than that.”

“I don’t remember.” Still no details. But he had a pretty good guess. “I know that we were close. That’s… all I know for sure.”

Allura’s lips pulled back before she smoothed her face. “And his loss weighs so strongly on your mind? You can’t put it aside, like Pidge?”

“We know that Matt and Commander Holt are alive,” Shiro protested. They had found that out from the records Pidge had downloaded. “Allura. I need this. Please.”

She gazed at him, biting her lip. “Were you lovers?”

“I don’t know,” Shiro answered, more than a little hysterical. “Not for sure. That’s the problem. I mean, he was- I can remember _feelings_ , Allura. And when it comes to Ulaz, I trust him. That’s all I know.”

Allura looked down. “Very well,” he answered and a huge weight came off his shoulders, letting Shiro stand straight for the first time in forever. “But I want you to know we will have words if all of this goes wrong.”

All Shiro could do was laugh in relief.

~*~*~*~*~

Out of all of them, Keith had been the only person to give him unambiguous support for this plan.

Ironically that was what made Shiro suspicious. “You aren’t going to tell me that I’m going on a suicide mission?” he joked, even as Keith had crossed his arms and looked away. He looked upset.

“It’s like you said.” Keith sucked in a breath. “He’s got answers.”

“I guess what really matters, is if those answers are worth it?” Shiro replied. “I mean, he- I felt- I know why I care.”

Keith turned sulky. “I guess I don’t want to believe all Galra are evil. I mean. They’re an entire species. They can’t all be like Zarkon.”

Shiro squeezed Keith’s shoulder. “They aren’t.”

Keith looked at his hand. “Thanks, Shiro.” Then his face colored. “Uh. You and Ulaz- did you-“

Oh no. “Did we..?”

His face turned almost as red as his Lion. “You’re acting like, well, Pidge said you were pining as badly as Bella Swan. I didn’t know what she was talking about, and then she absolutely denied it after Lance fell all over himself explaining the books-“

“I am not-“

“You are. You’ve been moping around and sighing and-“

Shiro covered his face with his hands. “I have not been acting like a love sick teenager.”

“You missed him. Pidge misses her family. After I lost my Dad, and then lost you, I acted the same way,” Keith said. “It’s okay.”

Shiro looked away. “Keith-“

“We want you to be happy, you know.” Keith’s lips twisted up even as Shiro felt his jaw drop. “We do. You deserve it. We don’t know what happened while you were in Galra hands, but we know that seeing Ulaz made you happy. So. Go.”

Shiro took a deep breath. Let it out.

Sagged against a wall. “I miss him so much, Keith,” he whispered, feeling his shoulders and hand tremble. “He made me feel…” Alive. Human. Not the beast the gladiator arena tried to forge him into. “I need to know I didn’t leave him to die.”

Keith nodded, then returned Shiro’s shoulder pat. “Go get your Galra, Shiro. We’re here.”

Shiro smiled, and gave Keith a hug. “Thank you.”

~*~*~*~*~

He should have known that rescuing Ulaz would not be just a simple in-and-out.

The first sign of trouble was when he lost contact with the Castle in a garbled mess of sound and static. The next sign was when the stars warped into rainbows and lightning danced over Black’s shell. He held on- Black didn’t show any signs of stress yet, beyond a bumpy ride- and hoped that the end was sight. But that was when the first wave hit.

The flash hit him, and there was a feeling of falling sideways, pushed out of his normal place and time and-

~*~*~*~

Becoming broody was always a terrifying time for any Galra. It meant quite a few things. At best, it meant retiring from active military life if one didn’t have sufficient rank for protection. That typically was every Galra not of Command rank. The worst was if he _stayed_ and was discovered.

He had gotten to see that happen to Thace. The Blade of Marmora demanded much.

He rolled himself up in a blanket. He had made contingency plans for this day. He had made a decision to remain within the ranks, but being broody meant staying constantly on guard. He had few opportunities for lovers over the years. Being one of the Blade of Mamora meant keeping to himself. 

Except for one. And that person-

“ _Ulaz_?” a voice gasped, and the sound made him groan because this was who he wanted, who he _needed_.

When the human crossed his vision, he took Shiro’s arms and pulled him close, pressing their lips together. Kisses weren’t an especially arousing touch for Galra, but it was Shiro and getting to smell and taste him eased the ache in his belly.

“What?” Shiro said, yanking himself free. “Ulaz, why are you..?”

And horror rose up to choke him. He had always known this day would come. But why did it have to be here, now, when he craved Shiro like he was dying of thirst? “Tell me. You know who I am. What do you know of me?”

Shiro tilted his head. “You’re a Blade of Marmora. You helped me while I was a prisoner. You…” Ulaz covered his mouth. 

“Don’t tell me more. That pertains to the future and I should not know it.” He took a deep, shuddering breath and squirmed. The horror was mixing with the arousal. “You are at the beginning, it seems.”

Shiro blinked several times. “I don’t understand.”

Ulaz pulled the blanket tighter. “Where do you think we are?”

“In an anomaly. I’m here to rescue you,” Shiro said, now confused. “You really don’t look so good.”

Ulaz felt sick, like he had swallowed bone shards. “You cannot rescue me here. You are still moving through the anomaly. You are going back through time. You will continue to do so for a while. We have met, and are going to meet.” He stared at this strange, small alien. “I’ve known you since I was first drafted, and we’ve met many, many times since.” He found himself stretching, fighting the urge to roll onto his belly and present himself to Shiro. Mount me. Fill me. I’m so empty. I need you.

Shiro looked stunned. “I… did you ever tell me that?”

“I guess I won’t, if you don’t remember me doing so,” Ulaz said. He crooned and closed his eyes. He should never, ever have mocked Thace when he went through this. He was reaping the reward for his callousness. He mewed despite himself. “So I’ll have to remember.”

Shiro knelt beside him. “You look unwell. What can I do for you?”

Ulaz swallowed, before stroking his fingers through Shiro’s hair, and let himself be horrible. Let himself touch Shiro where he liked (his neck and collar, hovering over his lips). The effect was startling and immediate and Shiro licked his lips. “Ulaz?”

“I need _you_ , Shiro.” He untangled himself, parting his legs and leaving himself open. “ _Please_.”

Shiro stood up. Quickly shed his armor and body suit, before crawling between Ulaz knees. “Then you’ll have me.”

~*~*~*~*~

Shiro had done this before.

He was sprawled across Ulaz’s chest, listening to Ulaz breath, arms curled warmly around him. 

He had done this before. He had bitten Ulaz ear, making the large alien whine high and loud. He had known that Ulaz liked it when he rubbed along his jaw, that the alien had two rows of nipples and had tabby stripes on his limbs.

He knew he had _wanted_ Ulaz. Wanted to see Ulaz under him, hoarse voice calling his name. The wall that hid his memory became weaker. 

The memory started as a leak, a trickle, seeping in the corners of his mind. Darkness clung to the outer edges, bad things he didn’t want to see; but he remembered holding and being held, remembered kisses and touches and sliding into wet heat and seeing Ulaz become undone.

He remembered getting up, like he just had, to clean up and put back on his armor and to just watch Ulaz sleep.

He traced the pattern of stripes up and down Ulaz arms, listening to him purr as he awakened. “Enjoy yourself?”

“Yes.” And his voice was raw with relief and exhaustion. “I… opened up a few vargas ago. Thank you.”

Shiro lifted his eyebrows. At that look, Ulaz proceeded to explain, in dry, clinical detail, what had happened. And the typical outcomes.

Shiro opened his mouth, about to ask if there was anything else he could do for him, when-

~*~*~*~*~

Shiro found himself in open space.

He flailed; he wasn’t in Black, instead he was completely surrounded by night and starlight.

This didn’t make much sense because the last thing he remembered was Ulaz’s quarters.

Now he was in free fall. He tried to access the computer in his armor, see if it could give him coordinates, when a tiny ship materialized out of hyperspace only a few body-lengths away. The shockwave nearly sent him further out, before the hatch opened. He gained control of his jets and headed in, landing quickly just as the hatch closed up behind him.

As the gases hissed, equalizing the pressure, he spotted a sign.

A sign. In Japanese. In his own handwriting.

“Wait five minutes.”

He opened his mouth and shut it several times as he tried to imagine what the hell this could mean. His knowledge of ticks and minutes was imprecise, as well, but he had a good enough internal clock that he was _fairly_ sure that it was five minutes when he couldn’t wait any longer and left the airlock.

He walked in on Ulaz humming to himself in the main hold, setting a table.

“This… this doesn’t make any sense,” he muttered to himself. “Ulaz?” Because it had to be him.   
“How am I- how are you-“

“You are, I believe, in some kind of time anomaly, due to a malfunction of the gravity generator on board my ship. You have said you are coming to rescue me, and I chose to believe you,” Ulaz said, looking up at him and giving Shiro a smile that made his stomach flutter. Yellow eyes cast up and down his form as the smile grew. “It’s been some time, Shiro. For me, at any rate.” He pulled out a chair. “And I think you have many questions about what is happening. The next time you see me, and the last time I saw you, we talked about what to tell you.” 

Shiro took off his helmet. The table was set with food, real food, not the space goo or nutrition cubes, and most of it smelled good.

In fact, Ulaz had made this same dish a few times, during his year as a gladiator. He remembered it. Some sort of seared meat and vegetables in a rich, fatty sauce that had him stuffing his face. 

“What’s this, about?”

“You said that the first time we meet, from your side, you didn’t get a lot of time to ask questions. That I was indisposed.” Ulaz rocked back and forth, before reaching for a bottle and pouring a pale green liquid that smelled like strawberry and mint into a bulbous cup. His smile was faint, almost nostalgic. “We haven’t gotten to just sit and talk in a long time.” Shiro twitched at those words. “Whatever happens in my future, and however your journey ends, I don’t want there to be many regrets.”

Shiro met his eyes, but his gaze was almost too much so he looked around the room. 

He didn’t think most space pods were equipped with a kitchen, or what looked to be a kotatsu, and several large portholes to view the stars through. The lights were dim, but the colors were the warm orange of fire or sunset.

Everything was set up like a great place to sit and talk, or cuddle. 

Ulaz was also wearing a large, comfortable tunic that draped low, showing his collar bones and the back of his neck. Despite his large size, the effect left him looking vulnerable and soft and Shiro could feel a goofy smile plastering over his face. 

“This is a date.”

“That was how you referred to human courtship behavior, yes,” Ulaz answered easily, and ran his talons through Shiro’s hair. “Care to join me?”

Shiro licked his lips. “Twenty minutes ago I was whisked away from you to another place, with you. Will that be happening soon?”

“You told me it wouldn’t be, not this time,” Ulaz replied. “But I would like to make the most of our time together right now, regardless.” His voice was hoarse and slow. “I’ve missed you.”

Shiro nodded, picking up the cup closest to him and tapping it to Ulaz. Together, they settled down at the table-with-blanket, warm and comfortable, and watched the stars.

Ulaz answered his questions, and Shiro watched his face. The way his ears would twitch, moving back and forth with his feelings. The contented purr when he ate, or when Shiro took the opportunity to stroke his crest. 

The conversation varied, from what was happening to Shiro right now, speculations on what might have caused it, to Ulaz saying that he wouldn’t tell Shiro too much; he did think this was setting up some kind of temporal paradox. 

Shiro found himself curled under Ulaz’s arm, head on his chest, listening to his heart as silence lapsed comfortably in the room. “What happened to Keith?” Ulaz asked, after a lull and apropos of nothing.

Shiro hadn’t mentioned the Paladins. In fact, Ulaz had told him not to tell him anything specific; while yes he was fairly sure there was a paradox happening, he couldn’t be sure, and asked him not to tell him many details about Voltron.

So talking about Keith had a different context. “What do you mean?”

Ulaz hummed. “You mentioned that he had a difficult life.” Regret made him sound hoarse. “That he lost his father.”

“Yes,” Shiro said. “He’s a smart kid, though. He’s… found his purpose.”

Ulaz put his hand over his middle, letting his thumb stroke over it. “A friend of mine lost his son and mate many years ago. I was not kind. I have come to regret my actions, especially as I have aged.” His talons danced over Shiro’s hair again. “I hope that Keith can be reunited with his dam, one day.”

Well, that wasn’t weird at all. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Shiro said. He let himself start touching Ulaz back again. Shiro traced along his collar bone, his neck, up to his chin and rubbed with both thumbs.

Hearing Ulaz trill in pleasure never, ever got old. 

The sight of his big cat-man turning boneless and sweet made his mouth water, and he got to his knees, putting both hands on Ulaz face to kiss him.

Only for Ulaz to pull back in surprise. “What’s that?”

Shiro blinked, swallowing as he realized what this meant. “It’s… a human way to show affection, and… intent to mate. Sort of like this.” He put his fingers back under Ulaz jaw. 

Ulaz’s ears tilted forward in surprise. “Show me?”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter makes heavy references to the previous fic in the series, though it should be somewhat understandable without having read it.

Footprints in the Sand, Chapter 6

Shiro wondered how long he had been in the time warp; how long was he going to be in this time warp? The realization that he was going backwards through Ulaz timeline, and _influencing_ that timeline, was a little hard to swallow.

Ulaz had said that he knew that, the less Shiro knew about what was going on, the closer they were to the end, and he had no idea if he would actually survive this.

Shiro had promised him the would come. He would save him.

But time had gone on, backwards. He had witnessed Ulaz caring for the other aliens in the gladiator pits, helping them after Sendak had visited. He had seen him gentle injured gladiators into death, if they were too badly hurt or too far gone to despair. He had held Ulaz when his own despair had nearly consumed him.

One memorable time, he had gotten to spend what had to be weeks with Ulaz on a forest planet, after a Blade of Mamora mission had gone FUBAR and they had dodged enemy patrols, trying to get Ulaz to a communication outpost to call for help. 

It had been tense, but they had gotten to talk for hours while hiding, and Shiro realized how much of Ulaz knowledge of him had come from that time. They stole hours of conversation around a campfire, even shared a small book together. Shiro had regaled Ulaz with tales of Earth, of the mythology of his homeland, while Ulaz had listened, enraptured by it. 

Then he found himself on standing in a clearing. 

Around him he could hear the sound of the wind making aspens rustle and creak, dropping gold to the dry grass. 

He sucked in fresh, unscrubbed, unrefined air that made his eyes sting with the chill. Shiro knelt, cool and damp transmitting through his armor as he picked up an empty pine cone, careful not to crush it with his metal hand. An indignant ant crawled around on it before Shiro put the cone, and the ant, back on the dirt.

This was Earth.

“What are you doing here?” a hoarse voice called, and Shiro whirled around to see Ulaz, standing under blue skies and morning light, dressed in the same type of uniform he had worn when he had invaded the castle. But the angles of his eyes were less harsh. Less weary. 

“I could ask you the same thing,” Shiro said. He had met with Ulaz on ships, on other worlds. But here? “This is Earth.” He tilted his head up and closed his eyes, wanting to get drunk on the sun. He had barely had a day back on Earth before and… Sky. He loved the stars but he had so missed the _sky_. “My home world.”

A soft expression appeared on Ulaz face. “I see.” He looked around, like he was seeing it all for the first time. Well, he might have been. “Natural light suits you.”

Shiro laughed. “Well, Ulaz, I haven’t gotten a lot of that lately.” He looked around. “Why are _you_ here?”

Ulaz looked down. “I am here to extract one of my own.” He gestured, and Shiro fell into step with him as they found a path. “He came to this planet to investigate the presence of one of the Lions of Voltron. Instead he allowed himself to become _involved_ with one of the residents.” There was a note of scathing mockery in his voice that made Shiro stop. Back up. 

The last time he had seen Ulaz he had been… penitent. Now, he sounded full of scorn.

“What’s the problem? I mean, did he force himself on the human?” 

“Not that I am aware of. He bore a child,” and the contempt became thicker. “He could have bred with anyone of the Blade of Marmora but instead-”

Shiro took his hand. “Ulaz. Hearts don’t work that way.” He remembered Ulaz desperation and half-terror as he had touched him. So this was the cause. “Love doesn’t work that way. I mean, sure, be angry if the guy actually betrays you.” He reached up and lightly brushed his hand over Ulaz jaw, and-

The Galra nearly jumped across the clearing from him, ears quivering in what had to be a Galra blush. “You don’t understand. His whelp is not, and will never be, true Galra. We would go extinct if we bred with aliens all the time.”

“If your own kind fails so badly at making yourself attractive, then you might want to rethink your species and how you all court each other,” Shiro muttered. “I mean, going broody happens to every Galra who lives long enough, right?”

Ulaz’s ears twitched again. 

Shiro walked up to him, into his space. “Ulaz. You’ve got a kind soul. I’ve seen it. You help people.” Ulaz didn’t step away as he put his hand on the big alien’s chest. “The Galra empire is not going to go extinct if a few of you fall for aliens.”

And now Ulaz looked away, and covered Shiro’s hand with his large paw, took his hand and squeezed it, before letting go. He held Shiro’s hand as they continued down the path.

They came to a wider spot and… 

It was a camp. A quick rushing stream sped past a pod that was half covered in debris and a ledge beside the water. Another Galra, this one darker purple than Ulaz, with much larger ears concealed by thick fur, was lying on his side in the open. He was sleeping, curled around a human child, barely a toddler. The child’s thumb was tucked in his mouth, his free hand gripping the Galra’s mane as they purred together. 

Something inside Shiro twisted at the sight.

Ulaz had treated him gently, given him a solace from the hell of his year as Champion. But he had never gotten to see a Galra around children. And that they _could_ love, that they _could_ care about others…

How had they become so poisoned? “Who are they?”

“My mentor in the Blades,” Ulaz said after a moment. “He had taught me much. But he ran away.” He sounded betrayed. “For what? For this?”

Something disturbed the bushes on the other side of the clearing, and a tall human man stepped out, humming to himself as he carried a mess of plump rainbow trout and the Galra there stirred, blinking and rubbing his eyes as he eased the toddler into his lap and sat up. 

The toddler flopped back, boneless, nose and lips twitching as the human man knelt down beside them both and shared an affectionate headbutt with the Galra.

He caught Ulaz’s grimace of disgust out of the corner of his eye.

“How’s Keith?”

And now Shiro nearly jumped out his skin. “His name is Keith?” he mouthed. Ulaz’s ears twitched like a shrug. Shiro knew he was going back in time; he did some rapid calculations. He knew that Keith had been asking and curious about the Blade of Marmora. He knew that Galra lived long lives. He knew what Ulaz said about Galra being able to breed with other species. 

He knew that Keith never, ever spoke about his mother.

This kid had black hair.

Two plus two made more than three. 

What he hadn’t expected was for a _wolf_ to come out of nowhere and sit down at Ulaz’s feet, tilting its head to the side and whining.

Silence cut off their whispered conversation as the two adults in the clearing became aware they had an audience.

“I gotta shotgun,” the man said, getting to his feet. “You ain’t got bad intent, I reckon, or Princess woulda already mauled y’all.”

Ulaz scowled at the wolf, who stood up and walked back to the clearing, and planted itself between them and the other Galra. No. Between them and _Keith_.

Good dog.

“We’re coming out,” Shiro replied, lifting his hands. Ulaz’s jaw dropped. “Come on. We’ve been found. You aren’t going to convince him by standing behind a tree.”

They strode out, and Shiro winced internally. The other Galra was holding Keith, who had yet to wake up, under his chin, cradling him protectively. 

Shiro knew at that moment, where Keith got his glare from. And he got it from _both_ of his parents. Even if the human man came barely to the Galra’s chin, he didn’t look to be afraid, or even comical, at the situation.

“We come in peace,” Shiro said, before slapping Ulaz on the arm.

 _His_ Galra didn’t answer. 

“Huh. I guess… y’all are that tall,” the man said, straightening, but he didn’t lower his weapon. “But I think you should be leaving, if you don’t mind. Don’t want y’all waking the baby.”

Ulaz growled. The other Galra narrowed his eyes and walked away. “I care not for your spawn. I am here to bring you back, Thace.”

Oh, that wasn’t good. “Ulaz-“

He surged forward, passed Shiro, to grab Thace by the front of his t-shirt, snatching Keith away, awakening him and making him howl in fear. 

“NO! Ulaz, stop!” Shiro shouted as the human man rushed forward, whistling sharply, and a pack of smaller, younger wolves emerged from the underbrush to circle them both. 

Ulaz was snarling something even as Thace begged for Keith, and the human man was coming in.

The last thing Shiro saw before being swept away was Ulaz doubling over in pain and falling to his knees, as Thace stole Keith back into his arms.

~*~*~*~*~

“No!” a voice called, tackling Ulaz from behind and knocking him to the yellow clay dust. The shot he was about to fire went wide, shattering a few of the bricks that lined the alley he had chased four of the native Remmini down.

The small body was strong, but Ulaz put up a fight, knocking the alien back and throwing him to the side, shifting the focus of his energy rifle back and forth as he tried to cover two targets at once. The little, furry Remmini cowered in a corner behind a waste receptacle.

“Ulaz,” the small, furless alien said, getting to its feet. “You don’t have to do this.” He extended one of his hands as he edged his way between Remmini and himself. 

“I do,” Ulaz wheezed in response, looking down the barrel of his energy rifle, at the four small, furry Remmini he had cornered. 

It was his first training mission, the kind of search and destroy that was typical of new recruits. He had been prepared for this moment. For the moment where he would shed blood for the Empire. For the moment he would be freed of the softness, the weakness that others had seen, to become the type of soldier the Empire required. To put away his childish protests and face the reality of adulthood.

“How do you know my name?”

The alien’s lips spread apart, showing white, squared off teeth in a smile. “I know you, Ulaz.” He walked closer until the rifle was pointed at his center of mass. “Take a look at them. Take a good, hard look. Is this who you really want to be?”

“This is my mission,” Ulaz replied, even as he saw their blood and injuries, noting the infection in one, and the milk-teeth on another. “I must, for the glory of the Empire and Emperor Zarkon.”

“Some glory. Killing helpless people.” He felt the alien’s eyes boring into his. “I _know_ you, Ulaz. I know who you _can_ be. You really want this? Do you really want to take the lives of people you have never met?”

Ulaz couldn’t hold his gaze, but he didn’t lower his weapon. “What I want doesn’t matter. I am- I am a _Galra soldier_. What else can I be?”

The alien put his right hand over the barrel of Ulaz’s rifle. “Someone who isn’t a murderer.”

Ulaz looked over the alien’s shoulder. Taking in the terrified squawks and whimpers coming from the group he had cornered. They were huddled together, whining, and Ulaz couldn’t do it. Murdering others in cold blood because they happened to occupy a strategic position the Galra wanted was pathetic. Stupid. 

He lowered the rifle and gestured with his head. “Go. Run.” He could sense the relief radiating off of the alien; Ulaz felt like he had signed his own death warrant. Behind him, the small group ran past him and out of the alley. 

“All I’ve done is buy them some time,” Ulaz said, searching his face, wondering why it was so familiar. The odd eyes, the furless, scarred face, and the short white crest. There was a deep cut on his forehead from tackling Ulaz. “If it is not me who kills them, another will.”

“I can’t… I can’t _force_ you down a particular path, Ulaz,” the alien said after a moment. “You have to live your own life. But… who do you _want_ to be?” 

And Ulaz found himself laughing humorlessly. “I don’t know. No one’s ever asked.” He should have been trying to kill the creature who had interrupted his mission. To his surprise, he found himself taking out a tube of wound-sealant to apply to the alien’s face. To his even greater shock, the alien tilted his face for Ulaz automatically, like it was the most natural thing in the universe for him to do. 

“And that’s the Ulaz I know,” he murmured, smiling again, face, shoulder and neck relaxing as he took one of Ulaz’s large paws into his two small hands, then frowning as Ulaz pulled away.

“Who are you?” 

The alien’s eyes went wide and round, making a sharp, deep breath. “I had guessed- but I-“ he shook his head slowly, the smile dropping from his face. “My name is Shirogane Takashi. I’m… I’m a friend, Ulaz. You don’t know me now, but you will.”

Ulaz took off his helmet to stare at Shirogane Takashi, and shook his head in confusion. “We… I’ve never… I don’t understand.” He had defied the Emperor, betrayed the Empire. His life was forfeit. Terror made his knees quake, buckle, dumping him in the dirt as he shook.

A look of surprise, then sorrow, crossed Shirogane Takashi’s face. “It’s okay. You will.” He wrapped his arms around Ulaz shoulders, pressing their faces together. The alien smelled pleasant, earthy. Ulaz buried his face in his neck and whimpered. 

“I’m afraid,” he confessed. “I can’t just refuse orders, I can’t-“

“Find allies. You aren’t alone in this fight. Find a cause that _means_ something to you.” He ran one thumb over Ulaz’s jaw. “There are others. You’ll find them.” He let go and stepped away. “I believe in you.”

As he vanished from view, right in front of him, Ulaz took a long, shuddering breath. Pulled back on his helmet.

Went to report back in to Lieutenant Thace about being unable to find his quarry, and hoping he survived the experience.

~*~*~*~*~

But the last moment in the time warp was the most poignant.

He found himself in front of a cave carved of what could be gray sandstone, bathed in dull red light from a star he didn’t know, but looked much larger than Sol. He could hear a soft cry, a whine, sadness… and a flash of pale purple that barely stood out of the shadow of the rock shelter.

“What’s wrong?” Shiro asked, kneeling in front of the little (well, not so little, he was clearly a child but came up to Shiro’s chest… and he was never going to tell Ulaz that he looked like a stray kitten as a child. Nope. Not with his ears still folded down.) Galra child.

All the young Ulaz could do was point at what Shiro assumed was a doll. One that had been torn apart. 

He couldn’t see anyone around. The rip could have come from other children or animals, or even a fit of pique from Ulaz himself. But Shiro smiled. “I think we can fix it.”

There had to be some kind of irony in the universe, because it was the soft doll’s right arm that had been torn from its body.

The young Ulaz was trusting, helping Shiro find some thread and a needle as he showed him how to sew it back on. The youngster was distressed that the toy obviously wasn’t the same.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, showing Ulaz his arm. “Even if he’s damaged, he’s still here, right?”

Ulaz took those words to heart, grabbing the doll to his chest… but not before giving Shiro a headbutt in thank you. He disappeared back into the rock shelter, and the heat of the red star enveloped him. 

That was when the familiar feeling of _leaving_ took him, pulled him away…

And Shiro found himself, still in the Black Lion, inside the pocket of space time. He sat there for a moment, staring out into the rainbow scattering of light that was the stars beyond the pocket, and the tiny pod that Ulaz’s ship.

“Black, readings,” he said, feeling the air punched out of his lungs. His tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth as he check, hoping for life signs, praying for life signs, and going lax in relief as he found them.

Ulaz ship was small; the easiest way to board was for Black to literally bite the ship over the entry way and form a seal, then cut his way inside with his mechanical hand, burning through metal and hearing a hiss of atmosphere as they equalized. 

“Ulaz?” 

Silence reigned as frantically used his jets to speed to the cockpit, shoving aside debris and following the heat sensors in his helmet.

Ulaz was not in great shape. But he was alive.

“I’ve got you, Ulaz,” he said quietly, reaching out check him, and then turn off the gravity generator to lower the space pocket. “I’ve got you.”

~*~*~*~*~

Hauling Ulaz back to the Castle of Lions was simple enough. There were cries of surprise and relief from his friends as he debarked, and asked Hunk to help him with a stretcher. It looked like the worst damage was a blow to the head. Coran had said that it was lucky that he had been able to keep breathing. Slav, in the background, was calculating numbers and rambling so fast that Shiro couldn’t track them.

He looked so tired, and so much older, suspended in the pod. He couldn’t help but stare at him, one hand on the smooth surface as the others milled around behind him.

“Hey, Shiro,” Keith said, eventually, when the press of everyone else became too much. “You… you okay?”

Shiro blinked at him. Frowned. “Yeah.” Except… his bones creaked in a way that they hadn’t before. He just felt sore and worn. The last time he had rested had been… he frowned harder. It had been hard to follow the flow of time when he had been going back through Ulaz life. 

He had eaten. He had slept. Surely? But he could remember weeks. Months. 

They were there. He _knew_ Ulaz now. Knew him to be brave and compassionate, had seen him grow from someone who had been afraid of act into someone who had defied the Empire by healing and daring to show kindness to those the Empire deemed disposable. Seen him inducted into the Blade of Marmora, had tended his injuries afterwards.

“We should give you a good once-over, Shiro,” Coran said. “Won’t hurt.”

Shiro nodded to himself, yawned, and took off his helmet.

He heard a gasp, a harsh intake of breath, and heavy curtain fell across his eyes. It surprised him so much he jumped, gaping, and slapping at his own face before realizing that it was hair. 

_His_ hair.

He quickly shed the rest of his Paladin armor, pushing his flesh hand through the tangled mess; it nearly brushed his shoulders.

“Shiro, you…look older,” Keith said, eyes wide and swallowing hard. “I mean, not big, just-“

There weren’t any mirrors in the med bay, but there were view screens. Allura turned one on and so he could see himself.

Long, coarse hair dropped to his shoulders; the white forelock had turned into a streak with some salt-and-pepper at the sides. His beard had never been more than whiskers, sparse but long, covering his lower face. Fine lines creased the sides of his face, cut around his mouth.

Oh.

“I… visited different parts of Ulaz’s past,” Shiro said, feeling numb. “It seemed to take forever. I kept moving backwards.”

“But for your body, time was still passing normally,” Slav said, nodding to himself. Almost everyone had forgotten his presence. “Don’t worry, it doesn’t look like it was more than a few deca-phoebs!”

Shiro winced. “How long until Ulaz comes out of the cryo-refresher?” He needed to process this. 

Coran poked his control panel. “A quintant should do it,” he said. “He struck his head, which was why he couldn’t communicate. But time inside the pocket was slowed, so he had only been there for hours.”

“How long did it take for me to get him?” Shiro asked, feeling his jaw start to drop.

“Well, obviously it didn’t take long for _you_ , because you got to him in time after you moved along his timeline,” Slav replied, counting on his many hands and fingers. “But for us it was… oh, about four quintants.”

Shiro stared dumbly as his Paladins and Allura decided, at that moment, to rush him for a group hug.

~*~*~*~*~

It took a while for the Paladins to let him go.

First thing he did was crash for almost six hours, so deeply that even the nightmares couldn’t wake him. Eventually he came back to himself, though, and he rolled to his feet, stumbling to the bathroom.

He showered and shaved, but decided to leave the hair for the moment. He had no idea how long Ulaz would be in the refresher, and he needed to talk to the others about what to do about Ulaz. He could ask Ulaz to help him cut his hair afterwards. 

He had before, after all.

The memory made him pause. He hadn’t had time, or the mental energy, to ask himself why, after a year, he had been decently groomed. He had woken up in Keith’s cabin in the middle of nowhere, with almost the exact same undercut as he had when he had left. He had barely had a five o’clock shadow. 

The little moments of their time together jostled in his memory. In his year as a gladiator, with Ulaz cutting his hair and using a cream to remove his beard. Discovering that Ulaz purred. Playing games when Ulaz wasn’t working and Shiro wasn’t recovering from the hell of the gladiator arena. Just enjoying Ulaz’s enthusiasm for medicine and putting people back together.

That moment he finally, finally got this sink his hands into Ulaz fur and _touch_. 

Ulaz loss had left him pining; the entire team from Keith to Allura had noticed. But now he had to explain that he had known Ulaz for… for a long time. Years, maybe. That he-

There was a small chime, and Shiro finished pulling on his undershirt and walked to the door.

It was Keith.

Shiro gestured for him to come inside. “What’s wrong?”

Keith looked down. “I could ask you that. Shiro, what happened to you out there?”

Shiro blinked, before squeezing Keith’s shoulder. “I’m… I’m fine.” His lips quirked. “I got my memories back. Some of them, anyway.” He realized that Keith was staring at chest and arms and the scars there. 

“Galra think scars are sexy,” Shiro said lightly, trying to lighten the mood. Keith’s frown deepened. “And they wanted their gladiators to be attractive, so Ulaz left them and…” 

Keith looked away, hugging his arms. 

“I don’t know how long it was for me, in there,” Shiro said after a moment, and went to grab his long-sleeved shirt and vest. “But… months. Years.” He touched his hair as it swung around his shoulders and pushed it behind his ears. “I’m okay, though, Keith. I wanted to do this and I don’t regret it.” It was weird, to feel his face lift in a smile. There had been moments of drama, fear, but he had also gotten moments to just… exist, with Ulaz.

Shiro’s heart clenched. 

Keith put a hand on his arm. “He’ll be okay.”

Shiro exhaled and nodded. “I know.”

This time it was Keith’s turn to smile. “You look happy. I’m glad.” Shiro smiled back and they both turned to leave. “Allura wanted me to come get you. She said we needed to decide what to do next.”

The sight of Keith’s back had Shiro stopping as something in his mind clicked that hadn’t been there before. 

He had known about Keith’s dagger, ever since they had met. He had been paired with Keith as a Big Brother years ago. Keith had tried to keep it a secret, but he wore it all the time.

Shiro had just spent a small lifetime with one of the Blade of Marmora. He knew what one of their weapons looked like. 

He had thought he had known Keith’s life: his father was a former soldier who had killed his brother in a feud over property, had taken Keith and lived as off-the-grid as possible until they finally slipped up and was killed during arrest, with Keith taken to a home for troubled youth afterwards.

Now he saw a tall, broken Galra holding a tiny black-haired infant to his chest as a human man stood between them and Ulaz. 

“ _It’s an open secret._ ”

Shiro swallowed. How to tell your best friend you know he’s half Galra?

~*~*~*~*~

There had been part of Ulaz that had always doubted Shiro’s assertions that he would, in fact, somehow save him from his fate.

His entire life had been a countdown to this moment. It was an event horizon he had never been able to see the other side of. It was a moment that he had lived for, in wonder and dread. In a way, it had been a gift. Most people lacked that certainty in their lives, knowing the when and how of their deaths. 

And… he wasn’t dead.

Instead he found himself staring at the Paladins and the two remaining Alteans, who were smiling at him and laughing and acting like they were happy. For him. Being alive.

Ulaz heard what they were saying, echoing through a long tube, dull and dim as they chattered. Shiro pulled out a chair for him when they reached the dining room, and he sat, but his legs didn’t quite fit under the table. A plate of green goo was placed in front of him; he watched it go from a pile in the middle, to flowing out to the edges as four small mice ran across the table.

Shiro was smiling. He wasn’t saying much, just touching his face and his hands. When he touched the sensitive skin next to his jaw, Ulaz jumped in surprise.

The others continued to chattered, like birds. Twittering, flittering-

“Ulaz.”

The air had been well scrubbed, but it couldn’t quite eliminate the scent of animal that came with being an enclosed space. No ship had ever been able to. Sounds echoed off the metal-

“ _Ulaz_.” He twitched, looking back at Shiro, who had put both hands on the sides of his face. “Are you with me?”

He blinked, looked down. He had crushed the spork in one hand, and in doing so, had gouged scratches deep enough to bleed. “I… yes.” He shuddered as he breathed. “Forgive me. I wasn’t paying attention.”

Shiro frowned. “Ulaz.” There was a note in his voice of ‘we’ll talk later.’ Ulaz nodded to him. The talk around him shifted, moving on to their next move. The suggested action was for them to go to the Blade of Marmora base and speak with the leadership. 

It was sound reasoning. The Paladins would need the help of the Blade of Marmora, whatever their plan was. 

Shiro’s hand tightened around his fingers. “Do you want to rest? I think you’ve earned it,” he offered. Ulaz nodded to him, getting up and following Shiro after he made their excuses to the team. 

He followed him in, and Shiro turned to him.

“I know you now,” he breathed. “Ulaz. I know you. And I’m sorry.” He swallowed, and Ulaz couldn’t help but be entranced by the sight of his throat. “It had to have been hard on you. That year you took care of me and I had no idea who you were-“

His knees wobbled, and Ulaz shifted his weight to the door behind him and let himself slide to the floor. “You apologize for that? When I- I knew you- I could have _saved you_. I could have said damn the Blades and gotten you out of there.”

“And I could have steered you away from them. You would have lived with- with _this_ \- hanging over your head your whole life,” Shiro replied. “I didn’t have to-“

“ _No_!” the denial was quick and fierce, and surprised Ulaz by how strong it was. “You helped me find direction in my life, but you didn’t force a choice on me. I regret not doing my best for you, but I am not- I am happy with what I have done with my life. I died with no regrets.”

Shiro fell into a squat beside him. “But you didn’t die.” He pressed their faces together. “You’re here. You’re with me. You-“

Ulaz trailed his hand over Shiro’s face. “I don’t feel alive. Help me, Shiro. I can barely feel anything.”

Shiro moved to straddle his legs, and put his hands on Ulaz’ cheeks again. “I’m here.”


	7. Chapter 7

Footprints in the Sand, Chapter 7  
The one thing that never stopped about life, was that it went on.

So when Ulaz found himself still alive, inevitably he had to return to make a report to the Blade of Mamora.

He had noted how Keith had reacted to the sight of his ceremonial blade. That he had clearly made the connection between Ulaz’s dagger and his own. That he was also not sure how to ask about its significance.

What came after was Ulaz wondering how he would answer the unspoken question. He had to admit to some cowardice on the matter. The tiny whelp he remembered had grown into someone his dam would be both be proud of and mourn for; Thace’s desire was for his son to have a happy, peaceful life with his sire. 

When he had first been sent to return Thace to the fold, he had been… far younger. Brash. Certain in his moral superiority. Of course a Galra shouldn’t bear the offspring of another species. It was a waste of resources. They would not be able to replenish their own numbers if they all chose to mingle with other species. 

He had been so young, and his feelings for Shiro so uncertain. So confusing. Admiration for this stranger who had helped him was rapidly turning to something more. Seeing his mentor, his friend, holding Keith had set off something in him he couldn’t quite process.

It was logical for them to take the Red Lion for their journey to the main base, and none but Keith could pilot it. (His dam would be so, so proud.) So he came with them.

And had been willing to confront Leader Kolivan about his own blade and what it meant.

Then Keith had been chosen to undergo the trials. He had felt Shiro’s eyes on him, willing him to speak, but he held his silence.

Shiro didn’t let that stand.

“What’s going on?” he said, after Keith began the trial, glaring at Ulaz. “You and I both know that his-“

Ulaz shook his head, then nodded to the others around them. “Leader, I need to speak with the Black Paladin on how we should treat his comrade after the Trials,” he said, hoping Shiro would keep his tongue. “Please inform us as to any changes.”

Shiro stared at him, hard, looking back and forth between them and the tableau of his protégé fighting seemingly endless hordes of Marmora soldiers. “He will need medical assistance,” he hissed, grinding words out. Ulaz nodded to him before dragging him out.

“They do not wish to kill him,” he said, to reassure Shiro as soon as they arrived in the infirmary. “He will likely survive.”

“Yeah, Ulaz, that’s not helping.” He crossed his arms, square jaw becoming even more firm. “Especially when you could say something and-“

“His dam, Thace, was the one to rescue you by lowering the solar barrier that kept you from leaving in the Castle, when you assaulted Zarkon’s command ship. Thace is now a deep cover operative, and has been for all of Keith’s life.” Ulaz looked at him, tilting his head. “The Blade of Marmora is… not an improvement, over Galra society.” He took a long breath. “In fact, we tend to be worse. My fear is that… My fear is that there will be a hesitation. A mistake. Others find out that Thace has violated our taboo, and that will cause them to, perhaps, not respond quickly. Not care for his life, despite what he endured to achieve his position. That should he return, he would face being ostracized, shunned for his choice.” Ulaz sighed. “And Keith would surely wish to find his dam, would he not?”

Shiro nodded, slowly. “After he lost his father he had trouble.”

“Thace is not in a position to be found.” He took a long, deep breath. “He was my friend and mentor, as you are to your Keith. He is distracted, he might fail his mission. And we desperately need him where he is.”

Shiro grimaced. “Can’t you tell Keith this?” 

“I can tell him his dam loves him. That he is brave. Would that be enough?”

“I don’t know.” Shiro ran his fingers through his long hair. 

Ulaz leaned down and pressed their faces together. “I handled taking Thace poorly. I wish that I had chosen to leave him now. But at the time… I had been afraid of my own growing feelings for you. Of finding myself in the same position.”

Shiro blinked. His jaw dropped. His lips pulled back from his teeth even as his eyebrows rose as he looked Ulaz up and down and up, then at his mid-section, eyebrows knit in surprise. 

“I… see.” He took a deep breath. “Ulaz. I hadn’t really considered… Are they going to give you trouble? Being with me?”

“I have kept my status a secret,” Ulaz responded. “And most will make assumptions.” He shrugged one shoulder. “But yes. There will be trouble eventually.”

Shiro bit his bottom lip. “I’m sorry.”

“Let us be more concerned with Keith for the moment, and the coming alliance between the Blade of Mamora and Voltron,” Ulaz answered, putting a hand on Shiro’s shoulder. “I have learned that the future will take care of itself. Go back to the control room while I continue here.”

Shiro nodded, before brushing their lips together. “All right. Let’s do this.” 

Ulaz nodded to him, watching his back as Shiro left and the door closed after him… then caught himself as the room shifted under his feet.

Surely, he needed more sleep. That must be it.

~*~*~*~*~

It had been a long time since he had been with the Blades at their base.

A very long time since he had spoken with his Leader. 

Kolivan had known him since he was young. Shiro had set him on the path to realizing that the Galra Empire was wicked, and that there was another way, but he had not been the only force shaping Ulaz’s life. 

Which was why he felt so awkward, now, standing in Kolivan’s office after Keith’s trial had ended. The boy was sleeping after his long cry, clutching his dam’s tattered book to his chest. Shiro had come to join him, and he had shown the camera and book to Shiro. His voice had been full of ‘look, look, I was loved and wanted.’

“Your relationship with the Paladins is disturbing, Ulaz. Even for someone as impulsive as you, this is unexpected.”

Ulaz kept his gaze focused on Kolivan’s desk. “There is little that is impulsive about this. Shiro was, and has always been, an asset to us. It was always in our best interest to keep him free from Haggar, and to use him to try to protect the Blue Lion of Voltron on Earth. That he succeeded, despite all that has been thrown against him, shows that we are right to make this alliance.”

Kolivan snorted. “And your… carnal interest?”

“I have eyes. Surely you watched his gladiatorial matches.” 

Kolivan cracked a smile at the sarcasm before sobering. “The boy is no mere by-blow, not carrying one of our weapons. Whose son is he?”

“Not mine.” Ulaz shrugged. “And I would need access to the genetic data of every Blade of Mamora member in order verify his parentage.” Which was something Kolivan would likely _not_ allow. “Isn’t it enough that one of our blades has come back to us?”

Kolivan grunted. “It is not that simple. But for the first time in ten thousand years, we have a chance to strike Zarkon. So I am willing to put this aside for now.”

Ulaz looked away. Closed his eyes as dizziness once again flooded his senses. “Very well. We shall continue this later.”

~*~*~*~*~

The realization that he had _no idea_ what to do with his life after Voltron crept up Shiro’s spine like a cold gray spider, digging in spiny legs as it bound up his stomach and lungs.

Around him, Lance and Hunk spoke about returning to Earth. Pidge said she would go looking for her brother and father; Keith said he would try looking for his own family, too. They all sounded like Voltron would be a phase. Something that, at the end of the day, they might be able to put down and walk away from.

They had hope in their voices. 

Shiro turned away.

He was on an alien world, breathing in scents that were sour, sweet and smoky, but nothing like that on Earth. The local star sat on the horizon; the atmosphere scattered the light to look more pink than any sunset he had ever remembered.

He was surrounded by a species not his own, doing magic with technology. 

He watched it all, the frantic activity as they prepared for the biggest battle of their lives and his thoughts should have been on that. Should have been considering strategy and tactics. He could go and try to train. Or perhaps try to strengthen his bond with Black further, just in case.

He didn’t even feel nervous. Just empty.

Shiro’s feet seemed to take over as his mind went blank. How long he wandered, he wasn’t sure, but he did know when he found his destination.

Ulaz was on the edge of construction site, one knee up and bent while the other danged over the edge. He was staring out into the dusk, looking nearly as bemused as Shiro felt.

“Hey.”

The pale Galra acknowledged him with a nod, scooting further back and crossing his legs. Shiro found himself smiling as he walked over and settled against Ulaz side, under his right arm. “Surprised to find you here. I would have thought you would be working with the other Blade of Marmora troops.”

“Thace’s last check-in went well. I have been assigned to stay with the Castle and the paladins. The infirmary is prepared, and… I find myself without a pressing task.” His talons carded Shiro’s hair, and Shiro closed his eyes, letting Ulaz scent and touch ground him. Make him feel more real. “And you?”

Shiro put his flesh hand on Ulaz thigh; he was cool from the breeze around them. “Thinking. After this… well. What do you want to do with yourself? The future will be opening up for you.”

The talons in his hair went still, and Shiro blinked, looking up at Ulaz. “I am not sure. My interactions with you bent the course of my life, though did not fully shape it. Yet I had succumbed to fatalism. I believed I would probably die in that pocket of space time. Then I did not.” He put a hand over his belly, absently stroking it. “I almost feel disappointed.” He made a soft puff of air. “And now we come to the possibility of ending Zarkon’s reign, once and for all. Who will the Blade of Mamora be, when we step out of the shadows? Without the Emperor, what would happen? I had given myself fully to this cause, as had all of us. We had been certain we would die young. Now… now I have no answers.”

“I feel the same. Without being the Black Paladin, what am I? I can’t go back to the person I was before. He doesn’t exist.”

The arm around his shoulders tightened. “He does. I have seen you at your best, and your worst. You are worthy of a future, Shiro.”

Shiro snorted. “So are you. You’re a healer. You should be out there, patching people up like you did with me.” He sighed. “You deserve so much better than me.”

The loud, breathy chuckle that answered him nearly tossed him off the edge of the construction site. “I deserve better than the hero who will bring down Zarkon and free the universe from his tyranny? I deserve better than the Champion who kept his sense of self, his kindness and gentleness, even after the gladiator pits and Haggar’s minions tried to destroy all of those things? I was not aware that _better_ existed.” He sobered. “I had not been given to thinking about the future. I am now.” His free hand curled into a fist, and Shiro put one hand over it. “Can we move forward, now, together?”

Shiro felt the laugh come out of nowhere. “Well, if we don’t have any more time warps or-“

Ulaz poked his cheek. Shiro smiled up at him. “I love you.”

The tips of his ears twitched. “I love you, as well.” And he shifted, pulling Shiro into a tight embrace. “I fear losing you, Shiro.”

Shiro buried his face in Ulaz’s chest, before tugging free of his arms so he could wrap his arms around Ulaz’s head. “I’ll come back to you. I promise.”

“You may not be able to keep that.”

Shiro leaned down and kissed his forehead, his cheek, and stroked his fingers over Ulaz’s jaw and under his ears. “I know. But I’m making it anyways.”

Ulaz pressed their faces together. “I have something I want to share with you… but it can wait until after the battle, and I am sure of it.” 

“You have a surprise for me?” Shiro found himself smiling despite himself. 

“For both of us.” Ulaz hugged him tighter. “So please come back, so that I may tell you.”

~*~*~*~*~

He didn’t come back.

Of course he didn’t.

Ulaz had not been able to see the aftermath of the battle. He had been too busy trying to save the lives of Thace and Kolivan, of patching up the Princess when she overextended herself. He blamed that for the reason why Kolivan had been haunting his workstation; he should not have left it unattended. 

Of course Kolivan had guessed who Keith’s dam was. The question had never truly been ‘Who was the Galra parent?’ but ‘Who was his dam?’” Keeping that smoke screen up had taken more of his concentration than it should have.

It had taken them more than a quintant to tell him what happened to Shiro after the battle with Zarkon.

There had been part of Ulaz that believed that he would never get to keep Shiro. First because of the time warp: every time they met, Shiro knew him less and less until the very day Shiro had seen him as a stranger. A stranger who wanted to harm him.

Next had been that they had actually survived. They had gotten a reprieve. A moment where their times had aligned. They weren’t coming and going. Perhaps that was all either of them deserved.

It was more than most people got. 

There had been a few moments of happiness, afterwards. Watching his friend and mentor be reunited with Keith was bittersweet in all of the best ways. His friend deserved to get to know the human whelp he had left behind and sacrificed so much for. 

And later, it seemed that Ulaz’s only ally, when it came to trying to find Shiro, was young Keith.

“You should rest.”

Ulaz looked up from his work station. He was sifting through the battle data again. They had gone into the Black Lion and downloaded the flight information. Most of it was incomprehensible, numbers that made no sense, energies that matched nothing on record. The druids might have been able to make sense of it, but trying to understand their methods had driven more than one Blade of Mamora mad. 

It would have been a risk he was willing to take, more than a phoeb ago. Now-

Kolivan was standing in front of him, putting his hands on the panel to shut it down. 

“You are making yourself ill, Ulaz.”

“I am well.” There had to be something in this data. Keith had been going out, every quintant, to search. There had to be something he could use. He wasn’t giving up on finding Shiro. 

“You have not slept more than a varga a quintant for movements,” Kolivan said. “I know that you mourn for your mate.” Ulaz flinched at those words. “And you wish to see him returned. Especially now.”

Ulaz fought to keep the growl contained, but didn’t make eye contact.

“You need to pay attention to your body’s needs, my friend,” Kolivan said. “You are not simply caring for yourself now.”

Now Ulaz looked up at him. “Is that why you are here?”

“To chide you for being foolish? I have had to do so often in the past.” Kolivan rubbed the back of his skull. The past few deca-phoebs had brought him many tension aches, and his own age wasn’t helping. “You are encouraging Keith to keep up his search for Shiro, and it has been almost a phoeb since his disappearance. I can understand the impulse and desire to bring him home. But there is a universe that needs Voltron to unify behind.” A bitter smile bent Kolivan’s lips. “We can help liberate all the worlds we can, but all people see are Galra faces. We cannot lead this effort.”

“So I should give up? He did not give up searching for me when I was lost,” Ulaz muttered, nausea churning in his belly. Kolivan wasn’t wrong that he needed to eat. But he hadn’t been able to keep anything down for quintants, now. “I refuse to give up on him.”

“And would he thank you for wearing yourself to a shadow when you should be focusing on your whelp?” Kolivan growled, crossing his arms. “Or is your goal to join him in death?”

Ulaz bared his teeth and hissed. “Isn’t that what you would prefer?”

“No. I would see your heart soothed and the universe healed from Galra tyranny. But I have said before, the situation is complicated. Our people do not know how to be Galra and sometimes old taboos and traditions are all we have to guide us.” He rocked backwards, crossing his arms. “I fear you are hiding from your situation by submersing yourself in the hunt for Shiro. You may continue to search. But you _must_ acknowledge that he cannot be your sole focus now.” He placed one paw on Ulaz shoulder. “I am going to assign you and Thace as our liaisons to Voltron.”

Ulaz nodded. He couldn’t find words to speak. 

“I think the children would be much more concerned if they knew about your situation,” Kolivan added. “But I believe they would want to know.” He made a low, huffing growl before squeezing Ulaz shoulder and dropping it. “I am going back to headquarters soon. The choice of how to act is your own, but it is something you should not put off any longer. Not if you want your whelp to be healthy. Speak with Thace if you do not wish to confide in me.”

Kolivan locked eyes with him. “Ulaz. This hurts. I know. But you are not the only one to be deep in grief right now,” he said, before his voice cracked. “But at least you have a piece of your loved with you. You can take the time to mourn.”

Ulaz dropped his eyes, thorns of guilt driving through his chest . “Leader. I –“

Kolivan waved it off. “We all have our pains. We knew that there would be no easy victory. But the living, and the present time, must take priority. Remember that.”

Ulaz watched him as he turned to leave. The new day cycle would be starting soon, stirring the paladins awake. So he turned off the work station and headed to the kitchen, hoping to beat them there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note for timeline: this chapter lines up with the last two chapters of The Lion and the Mouse.


	8. Chapter 8

Footprints in the Sand, Chapter 8

The sight of the Black Lion and the Castle emerging from hyperspace was the most beautiful thing Shiro had seen his entire life. 

Getting back on board was a blur; he just remembered the taste of sweet air and Keith and Hunk working together to pull him out of the cockpit because his legs and limbs were too weak to move. He remembered being checked over, thoroughly, after he was placed on the deck by a human man he almost knew. He seemed pretty competent in looking for battlefield injuries and was berating everyone in a thick Southern accent.

“He’s okay to move, got nothing broken but be more careful next time!” he was yelling, helping place Shiro on a floating stretcher. He was staring at the lights on the wall, almost unable to talk. They guided him down to the med bay while Keith hovered and Coran and the new human argued over what was best for him. 

They ran a scanner over him, and he heard words like ‘low oxygen environment’ and ‘microgravity’ and ‘extreme dehydration, lucky his suit had enough of a recycler to keep him from dying of thirst’. 

A deep, raspy voice could be heard, and it sounded strange. Distant. It scratched at his memory as _important_ , but for the life of him he couldn’t- he couldn’t-

He fell asleep.

He woke up back in a bedroom.

He didn’t trust it. His eyes darted back and forth as his heart pounded, trying to figure out what had awakened him. 

He had been expecting pain. He had, despite the unexpected dream of finding Black and the Castle again, feared waking back up in a nightmare. Memories of cold and despair and endless frustration rose up, mixing with the questions of why no one had found him, no one had come for him-

“Sorry,” a voice murmured in English. “You’re safe, Shiro. You’re home, back in the Castle ship. You got found a few days ago and been sleeping since.”

His heart dropped from his throat as he rubbed his eyes. 

The lights were dim, but not the twilight purple of a Galra ship. Someone human shaped was sitting on the floor across from him, one knee bent and the other stretched out. “My boy wanted to be here when you woke up, but he been needing his sleep, too, so I spelled him. But truth be told, I wanted to talk to you first anyways.” 

Shiro rubbed his eyes again and peered into the dark. “Who..?”

“Ah, let me introduce myself.” He got to his feet, and Shiro recognized him as the man from earlier. “Name’s Jacob Kogane.” He walked over and fell into a squat, putting Shiro’s head above his. “I’m Keith’s daddy. I… reckon I’ve seen you somewhere, but I can’t recall where.” He thrust out a hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

Shiro blinked rapidly at him, staring at his hand. “Keith said you were dead.”

“A lotta people said the same thing about you.” He pulled back. “But you’re safe. Like I said, Keith wanted to be here, but he’s run hisself ragged. He stepped in as the pilot for the Black Lion and been doing a mighty fine job, if I must say so. That scamp, Lance, took over as Red, and the Princess took on Blue.” Shiro felt himself exhaling, feeling weak and confused and not sure how to act.

“I figured I’d get in here early and the make an offer,” Jake went on. “You seen some shit, been through some shit. The rest of the Paladin’s, they’re kids, and you gotta put on a tough face for ‘em. But I’m a vet, and I don’t know who you used to be. You don’t gotta pretend. Come visit me’n Thace when keeping up the façade gets to be too much for you.”

“Thace?” the name seemed familiar.

“Ah. Keith’s Momma. As in, my boyfriend. Who is a Galra.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Ulaz and him were friends.”

“Ulaz?” his head buzzed at the memory, fighting through a thick fog, before recognition bloomed. “Where is he? Is he all right?”

Keith’s Dad smiled. “He’s… well, there’s a reason he ain’t here, but he’s doing as well as can be expected.” Shiro frowned at those words as concern for his lover made him struggle to the edge of the bed. “Hey, take it slow. He’s… well, he’s indisposed right now. He wanted to be here, but he’s, um, got a delicate condition.” 

“That… what? He’s a Galra,” Shiro said, baffled. 

“And he’s. Well, shit.” The big man put his fingers through his hair. “I’ll take you. But we gotta get you looking less like ten-day old roadkill before I’m lettin’ you into their nest, okay? He’s not movin’ very well.”

“Mr. Kogane, you’re not helping,” Shiro said, voice rising. 

“The kids, Ulaz, they’re going to be in a right _state_ if you show up looking like this,” Kogane protested. “They ain’t going nowhere.” He offered his hand again. “Come on. I’ll take you after you got a shave, at least.”

Shiro, almost despite himself, took it.

~*~*~*~*~

Ulaz was muttering to himself as he checked his tablet, again.

Thace had told him this would happen: the need for a small, secure space, and the closer and closer he came to nesting, the more and more he would need to be inside a nest. He had scoffed. He was had never been driven by his instincts before. 

Until he had been stricken with almost crippling anxiety and been unable to sleep. 

It had started out small enough. He had been able to leave and work, for a while. Helping Thace coordinate with the Blade of Mamora, take reports, interact with the Paladins as they went through the difficult transition of Keith becoming the Black Paladin, along with Lance and Allura adjusting to their new positions. Only Coran, Thace, and later his human man, had noticed that he had been able to leave his room less and less. 

Then one day he realized that the idea of leaving his room made his heart pound and his knees nearly collapse in dread and he had used the intercom to speak to Thace, asking him, as calmly as he could, to please bring a tray of food. 

A varga later, Thace was coming in and there was a crowd behind him.

“They were concerned,” Thace said by way of explanation. “I had to explain the situation to them when I tried to get food that would be comforting for you.” There was a note of disapproval in his tone that Ulaz had been too uncertain to confess to the Paladins their situation. 

“Yeah,” Thace’s human, Jake, drawled, from his position at Thace’s elbow. “Wound up giving the kids a Galra birds’n’bees talk. But they could guess who got you in trouble. And they want to help.”

On the whole, the encounter had gone less painfully than it could have. The Castle had supplies, and they were all willing to come in- quietly, keeping low, while Thace had curled up with Ulaz to keep him calm- and help set up what Pidge called the Galra Blanket Fort. They had lined all of it with Shiro’s old clothes, pillows, a comfortable mattress. 

He hadn’t left the room in almost two movements. 

And now Shiro was back.

Inside him, he felt his whelp roll in response to his surge in emotions. Giddy joy mixed with a sort of shocked horror because Shiro had never said he wanted this. Frustration that he couldn’t _be_ there because when he had tried, his knees had shaken so badly he had dumped himself on the floor where Thace had found him keening in terror. 

Thace had helped him back, set up the video link so he could watch what was going on through the ship’s sensors on his tablet. He had spent the rest of the day in his nest, with Thace holding and purring like his dam, telling him that he was well, Shiro was going to be okay, that their whelp would get to know both of his parents. 

Thace had told him stories of his own pregnancy and nesting, how the same thing had happened to him. Stress of any kind would tell him to hide, to run away; even happy excitement would trigger that response. 

Ulaz was a physician, but his specialty was battlefield injuries, and this part of the Galra life cycle was nearly taboo to speak of. He just hadn’t known how bad it could be.

He jumped when the chime announcing a visitor sounded, and he looked up and mumbled “Enter!”

It was Thace, again, and Ulaz looked at him with no small amount of envy. He was barely two months into his pregnancy, but he was handling it with grace, ease and comfort. He _glowed_. And it left Ulaz feeling even more ungainly and disgusted with his body.

“I came to tell you that Shiro had awakened,” Thace said, crouching low. 

“I am aware.”

“How do you want to handle him?” Thace asked. “Jake is wrangling him,” and Thace’s vocabulary had gotten so strange since living on Earth, “but he wants to see you soon.”

Ulaz rubbed his belly before answering. “I know.”

“I can try to put him off for a time. Get him to talk to the Paladins first. I’m sure they will be just as happy to see him.”

He wanted to see Shiro, desperately. He wanted to touch him, feel him, know that he was alive. See his smile. 

He didn’t want to see Shiro, because Shiro had left, and he hadn’t told him about- about this mess. Shiro hadn’t known that Ulaz had conceived. That this was even a genuine possibility. 

“Can you- can you stay?” he asked Thace. He felt like a whelp clinging to his dam’s leg, but Thace nodded, settling into the nest of clothes and blankets and pillows, and let Ulaz purr out his nerves against his side.

The wait never seemed to end. He stared at the door in the dim light, every muscle tense, the whelp seemingly just as nervous as him, shifting his weight back and forth. 

When the door finally chimed again, Ulaz had Shiro’s old vest close to his face, curled up in a blanket while Thace stroked his head. 

The silhouette at the door made his heart clench and his throat go dry. “Ulaz?” the figure came in, and gestured for the lights. 

After weeks of being in the dark the brightness made him growl in pain. “What’s with the pillow fort?”

“It’s a nest,” Thace said, lifting his voice. “Please turn out the lights again and crouch low to come inside. When dealing with nesting Galra, it is best to not do anything to startle us.”

Shiro, kind Shiro, didn’t question this. Instead he did as he was told, getting to his hands and knees, frog-walking into the nest-space.

Inside there were tiny fairy lights, set up along the walls. Shiro blinked as his eyes adjusted. “Ulaz?” 

He looked exhausted, but alert. His facial whiskers had been shaven, hair gathered and tied into a bunch at the back of his head. He smelled clean, without the adrenaline stink of fear and trauma. Ulaz felt one of the knots in his shoulders and neck ease. “I am sorry I could not be there when you arrived. I am… not well.”

Shiro knuckle walked in closer. “Mr. Kogane made it sound like you were sick. What’s wrong?”

“I-“ he licked his lips. Sat up, aware of how much bigger this made him than Shiro, and tried to remind himself that this was Shiro. The person he had loved since he was a youth. The person he had risked his position as a spy for. His dearest. But he couldn’t find words.

Instead he dropped the blankets. He had been wearing thin pajamas all day, and they draped over his rounded middle, making it visible even in the dim light. He took Shiro’s left hand by the wrist and brought it to his belly. And it seemed the whelp was startled by the new voice, because he kicked outwards, enough for Shiro to feel the movement under his flesh hand.

“You.” Shiro coughed, fell backwards, eyes so wide Ulaz thought they were going to fall out of his head. “Ulaz. You’re pregnant.”

This prompted a small chuckle. “I am aware.”

“How- wait, that’s a stupid question. I mean, I know _how_ , but.” He waved his hands in the air. “How?”

“It seems that humans and Galra are _highly_ compatible. More so than even our own kind.” This time it was Thace who answered, slowly edging his way towards the entrance of the nest. He gave Ulaz a quick rub on his shoulder. He grunted as he got to his feet and stretched. “Ulaz, do you wish me to stay?”

Ulaz shook his head. “I think I will be fine.”

His friend nodded. “Call if you need me.”

Shiro was peering at him. “I know you.”

“Ah. I think you would have heard of me when you were making plans to defeat Zarkon,” Thace offered. “I’m Thace. Keith’s dam.”

“You are.” He peered out, even in the dim, he noticed the soft roundness on Thace’s middle. “You _are_ -“

“Ah. Well, as I said. Jake and I are very compatible.” The smile on his face was gentle. “I will go then.”

Shiro turned back to Ulaz. “That was the Galra who had been on Earth, right?” He sounded strangled. 

Ulaz nodded. “Yes.”

Shiro swallowed. “Small universe.” He scooted in closer. “Wow. I. I can’t think. This is. I –“ he flapped his hands again. “I don’t know what to say.”

“I feel much the same. I had no real inkling until before the battle. Then. Then you were gone. So I decided to keep the whelp.” He tangled his fingers in Shiro’s hair. “I’m so sorry we didn’t find you earlier. We tried.”

Shiro fell silent, a curtain of hair covering his eyes. But then he looked up at Ulaz, lips spread in a rictus-like smile and his eyes shining with tears as his shoulders shook. “Ulaz.” He started shaking. “I…”

He rushed forward, wrapping his arms around Ulaz shoulders, and Ulaz buried his face in Shiro’s shoulder. “You came back to me. _You came back to me_.” 

Ulaz couldn’t cry, but he could feel Shiro’s, as he pulled away. “ _Tadaima_.” I’m home.

“Yes. _Okaeri nasai_.” Welcome back.

The end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here ends Footprints in the Sand. I hope you enjoyed it. I fear that my greatest weakness in writing is coming to an ending. I could have gone longer, but I definitely wanted this particular story to close. I may write a sequel about Keith and Hunk, and dealing with season 3 and 4 things, but I need to work on some of my other series first. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, comments and kudos!


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